Black Collar Academy: The Rise
by AshadelMG
Summary: Fifty years into the future, the survivors of a catastrophic attack by the Burning Legion have built a sanctuary on a new world. Faced with the difficulty of learning a new life, they are also haunted by a question: With victory so close at hand, why did the Legion leave Azeroth?
1. Chapter 1

**This is _not_ a canon run alongside Blizzard's lore. **This story contains adult themes (and there has been heavy editing to turn something explicit into something allowed), a certain amount of violence, some tragedy in the wings, lots of plot, and a tad bit of smut in every chapter. Because if you're familiar with any Black Collar story, you know there's smut. While I've done my best to tone this down, it's also probably a good moment to point out that my idea of what is appropriate for a 16 year old is skewed by the fact that I'm not an idiot, and I know what the average 16 year old is doing/reading/watching. I was 16 once, too.

This is part of a series, of which this entire first part is done. I'll be posting it slowly since I have to heavily edit. Comments and critiques are, of course, welcome and relished. I love to answer questions, and I enjoy hearing from those who take their time to read what I write, so don't be shy. This has been a fun little venture that I hope is enjoyed.

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It was a usual thing, for him to sit there at the fireplace and gaze without truly seeing into the warm flames that cast orange and red over the common room. His hand clutched the fragile glass as if he were afraid it would fall, but he was impassive. Nothing had ever seemed to bring emotion to his face; no emotions that she could ever find, none that would have warmed her as that fire warmed the home. She flinched as his hand tilted, swirling the dregs of his wine in his glass while he pondered things that she had never hoped to dream of. Or at least, she liked to think that much of him. She liked to think that he thought of her, even when nothing showed that would have proven love or loathing.

He set his glass down, and she scrambled forward to offer up the decanter that held more of the dark liquid. Her eyes searched him, and found nothing more than the glossy brown eyes seated beneath strong brows. His chiseled features were tanned, lit with sweat from the heat of the fire that now threatened to scald her clothed back with the force of it. The bottle clicked against glass, and she drew it away to stand awkwardly at his side, twisting her hands around the bottle neck that sat so large in her small hands. His silence continued, and she dared to speak, barely heard above the snap of the dry tinder.

"I was wondering, Father... the letter that came for me. Might I read it?" She licked her lips, eyes turned down and away as his own came up to regard her with that same passive nothingness.

"No." The single word response cut her deeply, spoken in his rich baritone before he turned those eyes back to the fire and began his idle swirling again. She knew the tone, knew that pursuing would only beget pain that she would only just be able to tolerate. Pain, humiliation... but curiosity was so much worse a curse, and she felt that the knowledge would soothe the shame she would surely feel later.

"Please, I only want to read it. I never get any letters meant only for my eyes, and - ..." Her yelp of pain shattered the words on her lips, the bottle dropped and forgotten to spill wine across the lush carpet. She clutched at the long braid of dark gold hair that he twisted about his hand as he hauled her around in front of him, sweeping her off her feet and onto her knees in one swift movement that left her whimpering. "I'm sorry. Forgive me, Father..."

He pulled her harder, until her protests were muffled against the rough leather of his leggings, her body sprawled between his legs so that she could only scrabble wildly for purchase on the carpet, attempting to push herself up. "My precious, precious child. You should know by now that I know what is best for you." His free hand pushed through the bangs that had escaped her neat braid, pushing them back behind one gently pointed ear before resting his fingertips on the back of her neck. "Maeve, my sweetling, do you not trust me?"

A thumb moved, the most of a motion needed to push aside the leather that barely contained his erection, and it dropped to smack against the bridge of her nose and brow, bringing forth a wounded whimper from deep in her chest. She struggled against his grip, pushing against the base of the chair to better wiggle away from the hot skin that she was painfully familiar with, and the lance of pain that shot over her scalp as he jerked her roughly upwards until her lips touched along his manhood. "I've never done you any harm..."

Around her throat his hand moved and squeezed, tilting her head until he could coax himself between her lips. Her resistance fell as his fingers closed her nose, and she sobbed in pain as he forced further into her mouth. "If I wished you to read it," he curled his hands in her braids, pulling her down on his maleness while his hips moved upwards, "I would have handed it to you the moment it came through the door. But I do not, and so I threw it into the fire. Don't choke, it's very unbecoming of you." He thrust, and her coughing became a horrid gag that silenced itself as her lips met his pelvis.

He crooned at her as she struggled to fight the urge to vomit, tears coursing down her cheeks while she peered up at him with the bloodshot eyes of one who was losing air. His thumbs brushed at the tears, his impassive face making no other expression as he held her there until her face began to turn from pale peach to pink, then darker. When he released her, she pulled off of him with an awful gagging, thick ropes of saliva coating his length as she coughed and sputtered apologies that went unheard. She struggled as he dragged her down again, stretching small mouth and tight throat around him until she no longer fought, and he could simply hold her head and rock his hips, staring at the drool that left the corner of her lips and the snot that smeared above her upper lip as she quietly sobbed her pain.

"Classy, Herin."

Her eyes shifted away from his stomach and to the door, trying to find the owner of the silken voice. She saw only shadows through her tears, renewed as he grunted and shoved her away and her head hit the corner of the fireplace, forcing stars into the darkness that was beginning to abate as breath found purchase in her lungs.

"I'd always painted you for the forceful type, but never the abusive. The years have not been kind to you." The shadows moved, and firelight danced upon a slender form dressed in simple leathers, no more decorative than those worn by the hunters and path-stalkers that she was familiar with. The cloak, a rich and deep green that matched the dyed leather that Maeve could see, hid what face she might have been able to find, but she knew the voice for that of a woman. "I would say that I find it a shame, but it really is truly only fitting."

There was silence, long and broken by nothing more than the snap of the logs in the fire, and then there was motion and the tangled sound of a scream and grunt. Maeve cowered against the mantle, the strong form of her father pinned to the floor by little more than the elegant boot of the woman.

"Child, I would like you to go to your room and change into traveling clothes. Pack a bit of food and some wine, and any precious possessions that you cannot bear to part with." The woman's eyes turned to her, flashing green in the dark that the firelight could not quite penetrate. "That was a request, little one. Do not make me turn it into an order. I will wait here for you. I have business with your father."

"You can't do this," croaked Herin, his hands grasping at the woman's foot in an attempt to dislodge her. She remained firm, her eyes following the willowy form of the girl until she was out of view. "She's my daughter, and I've not given her permission to go anywhere. Least of all with you and those... those people."

"Herin." She shifted her weight, replacing her boot with her hand as she dropped atop him, straddling him with the natural ease of a professional. He groaned as her soft leathers ground against him, making him shudder. "She's of age, both in the eyes of her people as much as the eyes of her family. Her real family. She no more needs your permission to leave as I do to cut off your air." With a languid sigh she leaned forward, pressing the palm of her gloves hand against his windpipe until his face began to turn blue. When she finally released him, he spent more time gasping for air than attempting to strike her, and she allowed herself a few moments to observe him.

"This has been a very long time coming. Your stubborn disobedience has made me late, and I don't like being late." Her hand moved, delivering a viper quick strike against his cheek that silenced him before he could finish his retort. He licked the blood away from his lip as she leaned back, bracing her hands on his thighs to support herself while she began to slowly rock and tease atop him. "More than that, you've tested the patience of one who is more than you could ever hope to be. Ah -" she lashed out again, a bloody smear appearing on his cheek, and she wagged a finger at him. "No talking. Your voice is pleasant, but I do hate hearing you speak. It's like... you open your mouth, and I'm forced to watch a cow shit."

Her rhythm picked up as she leaned down, lacing her fingers through his hair, her expression one of boredom though his own was contorting into something that might have spoke of pleasure. "It must have been nice to have a little girl so easily bent under your fingers. Doing anything to please you, but it's not enough." She purred, her hand grasping around his throat again. "You're a little shit who loves to know where you belong. The bottom of my boot, and no place else. With the snap of my fingers, I could have you licking mud from my feet. That," she growled into his ear, "is where you belong. The bottom. The stool which I sit upon, the cuckold who watches a worthy man breed his mistress." A fingernail twisted and dug into his lip, and he spasmed beneath her.

Without missing a beat, she stood in a single graceful moment, her boot pressed painfully against his balls. He groaned, and she slowly applied more pressure, and his hands lowered to encircle his maleness, face twisted into a grimace of tangled pain and pleasure. "Look at you. A few moments ago you had yourself on top, using your daughter like a little cocksleeve. Now you have a real woman, and all of those long nights come rushing back, don't they?" Her boot moved, clipping the heel over the head of his tip, and she hissed. "Don't they?"

"Y-yes!" His hips bucked as he furiously pumped his manhood, squirming himself up against her boot, and she against stepped on the sensitive sack of flesh until he was whimpering and his masturbation was easily heard, echoing through the previously quiet room.

"Yes, what?" She eased up, and he panted with desperation. A flicker of movement caught at her hearing, and she cast an easy glance over her shoulder to focus on the girl that stood there, gaping at a sight that was no doubt foreign. Her tattered dress had been changed into a simple long shift, her braids gone to let waves of dark gold fall to her waist over her bust. A cloak had been thrown haphazardly over her figure, one that the older woman deemed to be malnourished, and her feet were bare. In her hands, a simple cloth sack was being twisted with worry, showing that there was very little that was solid held within.

She extended a hand, motioning with two fingers for the smaller girl to come forward, and she was caught between pleasure and disgust as the girl all but fell over herself to obey the simple gesture. Her eyes returned to the man writhing beneath her, and she eased the pressure more until the only contact was his frantic humping that sent his sac thumping wildly against the bottom of her boot.

"Yes, Mistress!"

With a gentle smile aimed briefly at the no doubt uncomfortable girl, she focused back on the man and lifted her boot, bringing it down with a solid crush, grinding the hard leather until the man howled and came, thick globs of cum splattering his chest and face. She recoiled with a sneer of disgust, sliding her boot away as her hand reached to grasp the arm of the other woman.

"Memorize this moment, Maeve. Fix this scene in your mind, so that you will never again fall prey to someone who seeks to change their place. Remember the moment you saw the worm for what he is," she let the picture sink into her mind, the man who had been reduced to little more than a writhing pile of skin, bathed in his own seed as he futilely pumped his shrinking shaft and gasped with the residual pleasure, "and the day that he lost all power over you."

Her hold did not cease as she turned away, guiding the girl out of the common room and to the door, which still hung open from her silent entry. Gesturing Maeve through, she followed into the unpaved road, leaving the door hanging open behind her as she started down the street.

Maeve paused, staring after the woman for a moment before she looked back at the door, moving to close it. The woman's words were quick and sharp, forcing her to snap her hand back and scurry after the figure that was quickly becoming little more than a forbidding walking cloak of green. Those who remained on the streets hurried out of their way, whispering behind their hands and staring blatantly as the two passed. Maeve had little choice but to follow, muttering apologies to those she knew as they left the warrens of the city and found purchase on the short pathway that led out of the insignificant town.

"You have questions," the woman paused to allow her to catch up, and the hazy light that filled the square cast new shadows over the cloaked face. "I have some as well, but I will go through what I am able to now." Her eyes gleamed from beneath the hood, and she raised her hands to push back the cloth, shaking out hair that shone like spun gold beneath the light. As it settled, Maeve could see streaks of silver woven in the strands, but most startling were the long ears that pointed nearly to the sky. "My name is Ashadel, but you may call me Asha."

Gesturing, the newly named woman led them along the path at a comfortable pace. "I've been sent to gather you, and take you to an establishment where you will be trained in your birthright, and more." Her eyes flicked to Maeve, a smile dancing on her lips. "You've attracted the attention of a very benevolent woman, Maeve." A hand lashed out, steadying the girl as she stumbled over a loose stone.

"I... don't understand." Maeve paused to rub at her toe, turning wide eyes on the elven woman. "You saw what he was doing. You knew him. You knew me. You did... something to him."

Ashadel chuckled, her head tilted to the side, gently guiding Maeve along. "Nothing except what he craved so very many years ago. He was a pushover then, and he remains one to this day. You simply never saw that side, as he had left our care a long time ago. With your mother, in fact." Her smile was a fond one as she spoke. "Nyesla was a beautiful woman, and I see a good deal of her in you. It is good to know that she survives in the blood of her child."

"I'm not... I don't remember her. Father says I'm nothing like her. That she was beautiful and talented, and far more than I could ever hope to be. That I was the reason she died, that it was all my fault. If she hadn't had me – eep!" Maeve thrust her bag up in front of her face as the blonde whirled on her, a finger lifted.

"Never. Nyesla dreamed of having a child from the first moment she witnessed a birth. Were her skills placed differently, she might have been a wonderful midwife and nanny. There was no greater joy to her than finding out that she was carrying you, and your father wasn't worthy of her, nor of you." The finger reached and tapped the poor girl firmly on the forehead. "That entire ideal is going to change, if you are going to be of any use."

When the woman turned away and began to walk, Maeve quickened her pace to match it and spoke quietly. "Where are you taking me? What do you mean, 'if I'm going to be of any use'?"

"I had forgotten how badly the outer cities suffered when the Legion peeled through. You can barely recognize that this is where Stormwind once stood. Elwynn's barely a memory." Asha's musings quieted while she tried to think of a delicate way to explain. "I'm taking you to where Nyesla would have you, were she still alive. A place where you can cultivate the latent gifts within you." She stopped short, and glanced at the girl. "I'm not going to sit here and ask if you've done some things without meaning to. If you've heard voices. All the things the old wizards and mages might have asked their apprentices.

You aren't a wizard. You aren't a mage. You're an untrained quarter-human who has potential enough to be noticed by someone who is very aware of power. You can leave me here, and you'd never know even a hair of your abilities. Or, you can come to where you belong, and learn. So this," she gestured to their surroundings, the ancient archways and dried up canals of the ruined city of Stormwind a bitter reminder of what was once a great civilization, "never happens again. Not here, not anywhere."

They walked in silence for a time, with Ashadel slowly picking a path through scenery that changed from paved roads to deforested woods, and then bare ground. Only when the woman paused did Maeve find her voice again. "You aren't from around here, are you? I mean, you obviously know what this place is – what it was, at least." She quieted as the woman began to laugh, feeling oddly uncomfortable quite suddenly.

"Maeve, I once knew this land better than you could ever hope to know your own body. I knew Stormwind as well as I knew Quel'thalas. But they are both ruined cities now. Everything was ruined, once the Legion came. We thought that this world was lost completely, but it managed to survive. Everything is slowly rebuilding, and perhaps in another ten or twenty years, Stormwind will stand tall. Again." She shrugged, folding her arms. "Been a few months since I've hopped back over to Azeroth, but I was born here. I'll always be from here." Once more she shrugged, and then grinned. "Now one for you."

Before Maeve could question her, she raised fingers to her lips and whistled sharply, her lengthy ears twitching. For a moment there was nothing, and then a roar was heard. Maeve jumped, her eyes flashing to the sky, where she could just barely make out a shape speeding through the clouds. It dropped, large and fast, and she backed away more than a few steps as the behemoth landed behind the other woman, sending up dirt and stone in a flurry of wind.

"Have you ever ridden a dragon?" Ashadel's hand lifted, ghosting lovingly over the nose of the immense winged lizard whose pelt shimmered with the colors of the deep sea, holding an ethereal quality that the shocked young woman could hardly put words to. "This is Nazaku. My traveling companion for... a considerable amount of time. Come, he won't bite. He likes it if you scratch right there – yes, there. Beneath the wing. See?"

Maeve flinched as the dragon lifted its wing and crooned, but her smile appeared moments later when she realized the beast wasn't going to eat her. She explored the hide beneath her fingers, finding it soft and lacking scales. "Nether... he's a netherdrake, isn't he?"

"Very good. The majority of them were lost when the Dark Portal was destroyed, but a good number survived. They flourish on Nalorn, or as best as they can outside of the natural environment. It has been hard, but... well, you'll see." She offered the girl a leg up, and climbed up easily into the saddle behind her.

"I'm going to... but that requires the Gate. No one is allowed to use that without reason."

"You're a good enough reason. Hold the pommel, and clench your knees. Once we're in the air, it'll be smooth sailing. Pull up your hood, and don't bother talking. It's colder and louder up there than most people like to believe." Her arms looped around the slender figure, and with a roar from the drake and a scream from the girl, they took flight.

Maeve slept for hours cradled against the larger woman, and she did not wake until noise began to beat at her and the steady ride became tilted and uncertain. Ashadel's arms tightened around her as Nazaku dipped into a landing, tearing another whimper from the girl. A whimper that became a gasp as Nazaku hit a filmy wall, barely perceptible from the air, and suddenly they were coasting above a runway bordered by mechanical gadgets and engineering marvels.

"The gnomes help keep the portal working beneath the shield. We couldn't keep it active as long as we do if it wasn't for their machinery."

She nodded, her eyes following the runway to where it met up with a pavilion lit by spotlights. Her gasp was one of fear and wonder, eyes riveted to the swirling portal that they were now on a collision course towards.

"They hate when I do this."

She caught the grin on Ashadel's lips moments before Nazaku roared again and tucked his wings, hitting the portal dead on. All at once, everything seemed to cease to exist. The saddle between her legs, the warmth of the woman behind her, even the feel of her clothes on her own skin all became nothing. She felt fear that bloomed into terror, a deep need to scream boiling in her chest, and then it was gone in the next moment, and all that she had lost was present again.

Nazaku burst from the portal into a flurry of activity, a roar sounding out as he spread his wings and took to the sky. His roar was answered, and Maeve made a childish sound of joy as more drakes fell into formation around them, dazzling colors displayed across velvet leather hides. They stood out stark against the sky, no clouds marring the expanse of blue that the single sun blazed brilliantly over. Beneath them, flat plains rolled out, the grass alive with herds of beasts that she had only heard of in storybooks.

"The Plains of Jade became the new home for the creatures that were nearly extinct when Draenor finally collapsed and we lost the portal. Some of those talbuk used to be mounts, most are now wild. The grass grows wild here, so there are only a few settlements. The clefthoof herd over there is fairly new. We were lucky to find a few lost ones roaming Azeroth during one of our first trips back once the Gate was reopened. As many as we could get through, we did.

But not all things survived. We had a hard time getting the elekk to stabilize here, and the last few that remain are protected in hopes that they'll pull through." Ashadel spoke as they flew, the accompanying dragons engaging in aerial acrobatics around them that left Maeve breathless. "To the west is the Ivory Coast, and the Silent Channel. You'll visit there once you're established. To the east is the Saresti Desert. You won't venture there for some time, mostly because we have had very little time to explore it ourselves. The dragons have taken to it with wild abandon, and a few of them tell us that there is more to find there than we could ever dream."

The landscape changed beneath them, flat plains becoming rolling hills and then rocky terrain. Cliffs of dark stone replaced the grass, and the wind became more frigid. Trees appeared, dark and forbidding, and even the dragons ceased their play and shot over the trees in silence.

"Dreamer's Fall. This is not a place that is wise to even think of venturing to. We lost one of our own here, and though the woods flourish... well, you can feel it. But it means we are close." Her hand lifted, pointing out a shape on the horizon that was swiftly growing. The trees below began to thin, glades seen more commonly until they were replaced by water. A glass-like surface reflected the sky and the dragons, several dipping lower to pull in their wings and crack the surface with a dive.

"Mirror Lake. On the west bank is Hearth, and on the east is Stone." Ashadel smirked. "Between hearth and stone, one will find home." She said no more, but nothing needed to be said as their destination loomed before them. The island was large, centered precisely in the middle of the immense lake, and Maeve could see only two bridges that led away from the central island to either of the sides.

But it was the building amidst it all, seemingly carved from a mountain of solid rock, that drew her attention. A large wall had fortified the lowermost portion, the only access by land through twin gatehouses on either side of the complex. Inside, the castle had grown upwards rather than simply cluttering the ground with towers and spires, formed with keeping the mountain intact as much as possible. As Nazaku drew closer and began to circle the tallest tower, banking towards a large balcony, Maeve began to feel fear press at her again. She clutched at her companion as the dragon landed, sliding down easily while still in the larger woman's grasp.

"Easy there. Get your land legs back, but don't take too long about it. I need to get you to the Common Hall before the Headmistress makes it there, or it's my hide that goes on the rack." Ashadel fussed with the straps of the saddle, finally pulling it free and sending Nazaku back into the air with a shout. There was a quiet moment, and then she whirled and grabbed Maeve's arm, steering her through a nearby archway and down several sets of stairs.

It took no time at all for Maeve to become utterly lost in the twisting hallways and numerous staircases, and she felt as though fire had taken root in her calves when Ashadel at last stopped before a large set of double doors. Turning to her, she drew off Maeve's cloak and tidied her hair, straightening the girl's dress as best she could before standing in front of her with her hands on her shoulders.

"Once you're past this door, everything changes. I know I practically kidnapped you, I know this has all come on fast, but your idiot of a father made this all so much harder. Just remember. If you need any help at all, ask. Silence is compliance, and you'll be expected to know your own strengths and weaknesses before long. Just... make it. No matter what, we're happy to have you here." She paused, long ears twitching for a moment before pressing a hand to one of the doors and pushing it open, slipping through. She gestured for the girl to follow, and without much choice remaining, Maeve complied.

She was struck at once with noise. The hall, while large, was filled with the chatter of those who filled four long tables. Men and women of every race carried on conversation as easily as breathing, and Maeve found herself at a loss as to what she was supposed to do. Before Ashadel could escape, she clutched her hand and tugged her near. "Where do I sit?"

The woman smiled, her voice audible despite the din. "Choose. I can't do that for you. Where you sit is where you will live. Follow your intuition, and don't second guess yourself." With that, the older woman disentangled herself and strode through the tables, stepping lightly up to a long line of tables at the front of the hall, where she quickly fell into conversation with a tall Draenei.

"Choose," Maeve muttered to herself, standing awkwardly by the door. She looked to each table, chewing her lip as her eyes took in every detail of every person seated, and she found herself drawn up through the crowded room until she reached an open spot along the left hand wall, where she quickly sat beside a human girl and managed a brief smile.

The girl grinned back, leaning over to let herself be heard over the conversations. "I'm Tyler." She pushed dark brown hair from her face, peering at Maeve with inquisitive green eyes.

"Maeve."

"It's nice to meet you. Nervous?"

Maeve grinned, and nodded once. "You have no idea."

"I think I do. I've heard some of the instructors here eat the students that don't do well." Tyler adjusted her cloak, flushing faintly.

"That's not true. It can't be. Ash -..."

She ceased speaking, noticing that the room had fallen nearly dead silent, all eyes focused on the large double doors that were now slowly opening. They slammed against the walls, the sound echoing through the room. When it at last faded, another voice sounded, and Maeve felt all other distractions fade away.

"Welcome, students, to the Academy."


	2. Chapter 2

"Fifty years ago, the folly of the Alliance and Horde attracted the most lethal enemies that any world has ever seen. Unable to reconcile their differences for one reason or another, Azeroth sustained devastation that threatened to consume the world as so many had been consumed before. The Legion slaughtered man, woman, and child. They converted those who were hungry for power, twisted them into things that only nightmares had borne witness to before. The leaders of the people were the first to fall, and new leaders began to rise. Several years into the bloody war that followed, with so much lost and everything to gain, a group of people gathered and attempted what had only been done once before."

The speaker hardly lifted her voice beyond simple conversation, yet she held her audience in thrall. The soft rustle of fabric accompanied her steps, and it took some time before Maeve was able to see the woman herself. What she saw was something that she could only describe as flawless. Raven black hair spun in curls to fall down a straight back, whisking quietly along the fabric of the silver sash around gently rounded hips. She was slender, curved enough to be truly feminine, but no image of fertility.

Instead, she was the picture of quiet power, of unmistakable strength that wrapped around the room and held those who were seated within her grasp with nothing more than her words. She paused in the middle of the room, at the crossroads where each table of students formed around her, and Maeve could see the briefest flash of dimly glowing silver eyes framed by thick lashes, of full lips seated in a neutral expression, and then there was nothing but the wash of black curls as the woman turned to observe those who sat around her.

"These people were no different from you. They were no stronger, and several were considerably weaker. They all held one thing in common. One thing," the woman lifted a hand, holding up a single finger, "that was imperative to the success of what they wished to do. Desperation. The blind faith, blind hope, that what they sought to do could be that which would save them. If they managed it, it could be a chance at salvation. There was nothing else to lose... not when the cities stood in ruins, their people dead or reduced to shades of their former self.

"Together, they attempted what only one man had done previously. As the Legion closed in on these survivors, they reached into the depths of their despair and found hope, and ripped a tear into the fabric of the universe. They had no idea what lay on the other side, but anything was better than what they were facing. So they ran. Less than a thousand people flooded through this tear, herding animals and carrying children. The pure energy needed to do such a thing drew the Legion to them, and in one final clash the portal was destabilized and it closed behind those who had run. Hundreds remained... hundreds were lost. Their fates are unknown, but those who survive still hope..."

The woman watched those around her, then began walking towards the front of the room, where she mounted the stairs and turned to look over them. "This is not Dalaran. You are not wizards, or mages, or arcanists. Those are simple terms used for a breed of being that is dead. What you are, somewhere deep down in the untapped rooms of your mind, is special. You are the heirs of the first, those born of a deep desire to survive. Many of you were born in the aftermath..." Her head tipped, a flicker of emotion tainting her otherwise stoic tone.

"The Academy is a place of learning that will hone your abilities into formidable weapons. Make no mistake – you will learn, you will fight, or you will die. This world is beautiful, but it has it's own dangers that rival even the worst that we once knew on Azeroth. You are not children. I will not allow you to walk blindly on this world, or any other. But make no mistake: no matter what you fear, no matter what haunts you, no matter how frightening the most terrible thing you can think of, I am far worse."

Silence met her words, an uneasy shift of students as they glanced from one to another and then back up as the woman gestured to the row of figures that stood behind her at the long table. "Behind me are your teachers. Your classes are varied, and every bit important. There are no grades; you will know if you have passed or failed, and it is your duty to learn where you have failed and improve. Consider your most dire failing grade to be that of death. Which is possible, and has happened.

"Ashadel," the elven woman stepped forward with a smirk, arms folded over her chest, "leads the Grey Riders, an organization within the Academy that enforces the rules that are laid down, which will be told to you before you leave this hall. Not only that, she acts as groundskeeper for the Academy. She tends to enjoy speaking to the students, and you'll find her good company. If, of course, you don't get on her bad side." Ashadel stepped back as another woman was gestured forward.

Tall, with white hair and horns that were swept back along her skull, the draenei moved with an aged grace that suited her despite her height. "Eaxoa is our librarian, working in tandem with Xaedryx, another teacher who you will deal with at another time. She also teaches the history class, which covers both Azeroth and what we know of Nalorn. Under her tutelage, you will learn of what we have faced, and what you will face."

"Saiya," a slender kaldorei slipped forward as Eaxoa returned to the line, "is our resident druidess. She watches over Dreamer's Fall with her brothers, who you will rarely see unless you dare to step into the woods. Which, you should not do unless you are in the company of a Rider, or one of the Wardens. She teaches our class on the care of our creatures, as well as riding the drakes of Nalorn... if any of you should prove to have the capability."

"In regards to the Wardens." Replacing Saiya were two Sin'dorei women. They wore their red hair long, bound back by leather ties. Black cloaks concealed most of their figures, dark plate armor chased with silver barely visible in the candlelight that managed to slip past. On their backs, claymores were sheathed and strapped tightly. "On the left is the Warden Commander, Gildedsun." The taller of the two bowed her head briefly. "On the right, our Captain of the Guard, Forgewhisper." The shorter, more curved elven woman tipped her head, plate grating as her arms folded.

"The Wardens are the military force for Nalorn, with their base quite far to the west near the Ivory Coast. These two act as instructors for the combat arts, but they also keep an eye on those who have great skills or talents with blades. Without the Wardens, we would be bereft of a great deal of protection. Consider them the elite of any combative forces that you might encounter. They are few in number, but each is capable of standing against a small army on their own. Don't let their beauty fool you – they are ruthless teachers, and vicious opponents." The two backed up as the woman peered out over the crowd again.

"There are others you will meet here, others you will bond with. Your service here will continue until you are either ready to leave, or you die. The Academy does not release those who have failed to live up to the expectations of the Headmistress." The woman gestured to herself. "My name is Kas'viri Lunarspell, but you will call me Headmistress, or Mistress. Nothing more, nothing less. Consider that the first rule of the Academy.

"The second rule to keep in mind is that you are not children. You will not be put into corners for disobedience. You will not have your desserts taken from you, your toys discarded, and you will not be locked in your rooms to contemplate your misdeeds. The punishments here at the Academy are specifically created to break you of your childish impulses to balk at your betters. I can assure you, you will not enjoy disobedience.

"To that end, be aware that the dormitories are mixed gender. We do not believe in separating men and women – you are adults. You'll act like them between the sheets, and unless you decide to do something excruciatingly foolish in regards to sexual conduct, there is no rule forbidding... fraternization." She paused at the rush of guilty chuckles, though they hushed as her hand lifted. "Our teachings will be rough, and brutal. If you find relaxation within the arms of another, seek it."

"The last and most important rule, is this." Her tone became firm, her expression stern. "The Academy is a place of learning. We teach what we know and what we are learning in the hopes of never allowing the fate of Azeroth to happen again. To that end, the summoning of demons, or of powerful arcane magics, that might pull the attention of the Legion to our world are all forbidden. This is your only warning, this is the only time you can claim innocence. It is this rule that asks no forgiveness. Break it, and your execution will be public and brutal."

Maeve felt the chill of the words down her spine, and cast a quick glance to Tyler, who nodded back at her. The silence stretched out painfully, tension lying thick over the room before the sound of heavy footfalls on stone dragged the attention of the crowd away from the slender figure and back towards the door. A man, for one so broad of shoulder and of such height could hardly be anything but, swept from the doors through the crowd, offering the Headmistress only the faintest nod of acknowledgment from beneath the deep hood that cloaked his face from view. Beneath the cloak he wore, the large hand-and-a-half sword on his hip was only just visible inches from the floor.

Kas'viri, for all the cold that she seemed to radiate just moments before, warmed considerably as the man swept behind her. Her head turned just so, a pale flicker of a smile ghosting on her lips. The sin'dorei Wardens bent their heads in polite deference, both moving in tandem to make room for him as he stepped into place beside the blonde Rider. Her eyes turned back towards the door, and she stood as if expecting someone else to stride through. No one did, and the slight flicker of sadness was easily missed as she returned her attention to the students.

Maeve had seen several sides to the woman in their short time together, but the look that she saw Ashadel grant the man as he came to stand beside her was one that she felt she should not have been surprised at. The woman clearly knew laughter and joy despite the struggles of the world, but the quarter-elf was now certain that the age that seemed to weigh on the Rider had lifted considerably. She knew the look that was given to the stranger; a look of love that knew no boundaries. It was a look that made Maeve ache, and she looked away to give the woman a sense of privacy.

But the look that Ashadel held was not one that was missed, and the sudden appearance of the man who made no gestures to introduce himself, or even unmask his hidden features, started a low murmur that grew into the steady chatter that Maeve had arrived into. Certain that the interruption would upset the Headmistress who had retained such control over the room until that point, Maeve was shocked to see that the woman had instead turned away from the room to speak quietly to the hooded man, who now had the full attention of all teachers but the Wardens, though their long ears twitched – they heard, even if their eyes were on the crowd instead of him.

"Who do you think that is?" Tyler propped an elbow on the table, chin held in her palm while she tapped out a rhythm on the wood. "I mean, who just strides on in to the room without getting her upset? She seems the type to not like being interrupted, doesn't she?"

Maeve shrugged, her hands rubbing gently at her grumbling stomach. "Don't know him. I don't know anyone here. I'd never been outside of the Low Canals before today. Yesterday? I'm not really sure..."

"Old Stormwind, huh? I used to have family there, or so my Da told me before the fever claimed him. That blonde one picked me up about three weeks ago feeding out of the bins behind an old tavern in Deadwood. Not exactly the best place in the world..." Tyler quirked her lips in a half grin, guilt visible in the depths of her eyes. "That's a bit south from where you were, I think. Used to be Duskwood, until the Legion ripped through and near-decimated Karazhan. The shattered towers -"

"Split and sent energy that warped the already dark woods nearby, and they were known better as Deadwood ever since." Maeve shyly smiled, giving an innocent grin. "The old baker not more than a few doors down told me about it. Or what she remembered... her mind was going, so I don't think that's really the truth, but..."

Tyler laughed, pushing hair back from her face, briefly showing the angular jaw and larger ears that she clearly spent most of her time hiding. "It's close enough. Bad rumors about that old tower. Some people say it's the old Guardian's latent magic that sucked the demons right out of the world, but I don't believe it. I don't think they do, either."

The two glanced back to the crowd of elders as they parted, returning to their seats save for the cloaked man. His swift appearance was echoed in the brisk movement as he left the stairs and strode to the door, vanishing around the bend. Behind him went Ashadel, her vivid green eyes focusing briefly on Maeve with a warm smile before she was gone as well. Maeve squeaked as Tyler nudged her with an elbow.

"Oooh, you've got her fancy. She doesn't smile like that for just anyone, you know. Old family friend?" Tyler's fingers were like weapons against her bony sides, prodding along ribs in search of ticklish skin. Uncertain about the contact, Maeve was trapped between wriggling right off the bench, and laughing.

"N-no. Well, maybe. I don't know. She knew my mother, but it's not really anything like that. Knew my father, too." She felt the flush that hit her cheeks when her mind wandered to the image of her father mercilessly engraved in her mind; panting wildly on the floor beneath the boot of a woman limned by firelight, weak and helpless. Enjoying it. Maeve shook her head hard, scrubbing the thought from her head, but Tyler wouldn't let it go.

"No? That's no chaste blush, there. But that's alright, you can keep your secrets. I'll tell you this much, though. That woman will rip your legs out from under you and make you rethink everything you ever knew about sex. You can consider yourself a king of pleasure, and she'll show you for the peasant your really are." Tyler shivered, a delightful sort of squirm that had Maeve's jaw dropping.

"You didn't. With... but she's old enough to be your mother!"

"Well, it's not like it was planned. We hit bad weather on the way to the Gate, and had to hide out in one of the mountain caves. She was curled against the side of that dragon," Tyler leaned in, voice dropping and forcing Maeve to draw closer as well, "naked. Our clothes had gotten pretty wet, so it's not like she was just laying there all inviting. Except she sort of was. I don't know, it's hard to explain. She's just so... comfortable with herself.

The fire wasn't enough, and I think the dragon knew it. Looked at me with those odd eyes, and lifted it's wing up. I figured that was about as good an invitation as I was really gonna get, so I crawled on in there. I'd been riding it for hours, so I don't know why I was so surprised that it was so warm, but it got a little hard to pay attention to that bit of information when she snuggled up against me. That woman is soft in all the right places, Maeve... and her hands. I went from just warm to utter bliss in what felt like less than a handful of seconds. Nevermind the biggest surprise." Tyler grinned devilishly. "That dragon is a male, just so you know."

Maeve's jaw dropped, but all the questions that flooded her mind were silenced as the room drowned itself in cheers, and she caught the whiff of something delicious. Her stomach gurgled happily, eyes feasting on the veritable parade of similarly dressed men and women coming through the doors with platters and bowls, goblets and decanters. It took all of her strength not to leap upon the covered platters set before her and Tyler, who grinned at the delight the quarter-elf showed.

She needed no permission to pull one of the heavy covers off the top of the platter, moaning with joy as the scent of roasted chicken invaded her nostrils. She dragged meat and potatoes onto her plate, noting only after she had nearly filled the plate that Tyler was nearly dying of laughter beside her. She shrugged, stuck her tongue out at her, and began to eat, losing herself to the richness of food that she hadn't had the pleasure of tasting in several years.

Her haze lessened as her stomach began to fill, and Tyler cautioned her to slow her eating or risk being sick and having a 'second tasting.' Despite her complaints, she slowed as she as requested, her eyes flicking along the table to finally peer at some of the others. They seemed jovial and friendly enough, talking together as if they had been friends for years. Maeve, who couldn't remember the last time she had a friend, felt a little lost. But as a stocky male draenei roared in laughter, his body swaying backwards, her eyes went wide with surprise that caught the attention of Tyler.

No more than a few places down at the opposite side of the table, two women sat together with plates of food before them. One was thin, not quite in the realm of beautiful but certainly just on the edge. The severe braid that bound her raven hair gave her a harsh appearance, though her movements were gentle when it came to the one that sat beside her. This one was quite pretty, and there were similarities in the structure of the face and eyes that made Maeve feel as though they were siblings. Where the one was thin, the second was plush and curvy, her dark hair let free to flow around her face and down a chest that swelled with heavy breasts hidden beneath the pale silk of her dress.

The thinner one lifted a cup, bringing it to the lips of her sister, who drank deep of the liquid. Some spilled, wine dripping from the corners of her lips to trickle down along the skin of her neck and between her breasts. The cup moved, and the last of the liquid was allowed to spill over her chin in a scant stream, spreading the stain of wine on silk further along her generous cleavage. The cup was set down, and the slender sister looped an arm around the shoulders of the other as the drunken twin leaned forward, accepting the grazing touch of a strawberry dripping with cream that was offered by a gnome woman leaning far over the table.

The berry dropped, sinking between the pillowed flesh of her breasts, and the pretty woman groaned, her hands lifting only to stop, halted by the manacles around her wrists and the chains that kept her from addressing the little problem of fallen food. Maeve's ears twitched at the whimper she heard, and the pleased gasps from the gnome and her elven companion, a male who gathered up another strawberry and drenched it in chocolate, allowing the thick candy to drizzle over the woman's skin before offering it to her wanting mouth.

The chains clinked as the woman lifted herself, chasing the candy-coated berry as the man teased her with it, her sister planting slender hands on the thick hips and pushing her down to sit again, her lips close to the ear of her twin, who expressed her pleasure with a roll of her head, throwing it back as her sister pushed the silken fabric off her shoulders and down her arms, baring the soft skin and pale nipples that were tight with arousal. Suitably pleased with the woman's appearance, her sister gathered up a bowl of custard and, sweeping the loose locks of hair away from her shoulder, gently tipped the bowl.

The dessert ran thickly over her skin, drawing a pleased moan from deep within the woman's chest. Her back arched, breasts lifted into the air as the sticky liquid coursed over her, cloaking her pale skin like a glove. Her dulcet moans had attracted the attention of those nearest her, and the male draenei shot the slender woman a questioning glance before lowering his head to one ripe breast, capturing the nipple and suckling roughly. He released with a surprised sound, and as the dominant twin grinned, he squeezed the soft flesh of the woman's breast, drawing gasps from the surrounding students as pearly milk dribbled from the pale nipples and coated his large hand.

He returned his attentions to the breast, sliding his tongue over skin to clean it of custard that was only replaced by the insistent pour from the twin, his rough sucking of one nipple turning the skin a deeper color. The gnome joined, crawling over the table to seat herself atop the chained woman's hands, using her own to gather one large breast and pull the supple flesh to her mouth.

"If you don't shut that mouth," Tyler muttered as the plush woman released a louder moan, her body shuddering in what was easily identifiable as the beginning throes of an orgasm as those closest to her traded her breasts between them, drenching her in her own milk, "someone's going to stick something in there that you might not be all that ready for." She smirked at the audible snap of Maeve's jaw closing, and moved to push away from the table and stand, looping an arm around one of Maeve's own. "Come on. Theresa and Tiffany can go like that for hours, and you looked half-dead when you got in here anyway."

Maeve mumbled something under her breath, standing with some difficulty from Tyler's insistent tugging, and allowed the taller woman to guide her around the table. They paused behind the woman, and Tyler reached out a finger to drag it through the layer of custard along the outside swell of one breast, and offered the digit to Maeve with a grin. A grin that was infectious, and Maeve found herself accepting the finger, not wanting to disappoint her new friend. Tyler winked, reaching down to swat the chained woman's rear before tugging Maeve along after her.

"We easily have the best rooms in the castle, personally. We're just about on the water's edge, but it's beautiful, really. Oops, not that way." Tyler pulled away from a wooden door, glancing up and down the hall. "This way, I think. Anyway, our rooms are nearly on the bottom level of the castle, just above the water's edge. Ashadel claimed the caverns, but the draenei's room is down there, too. Eaxoa." She paused to push open a door, and the corridor became ablaze with torchlight, guiding them down the otherwise dark hall. "She claimed them for one reason, and everyone else is jealous of it. All because of... these!"

Tyler pulled her into a room that smelled of bath oils, and lights blazed into life from recesses set into the walls. The room was large, the floor arranged in levels with small ramps that were forged into the stone. One every level, one or two large pools could be seen, the water within dimly glowing. Throughout the room, steam wafted on eddies of air brought in from an unknown source.

"We got the steam pools," Tyler sing-songed, pointing to an alcove in the back of the room. "There are more pools back there. This is sort of considered the public bathing area. We have some people who prefer their privacy, and the smaller pools in the back alcoves help give them their security. There's oils, and soaps, and fluffy towels, too! This way!" Maeve yelped as Tyler's hand encircled her wrist, and she was dragged down another hallway with only a short pause granted as Tyler realigned herself with their position.

Maeve's eyes traveled the hallway, spotting an opening in the wall that gifted a brief glimpse of the outside. The water of Mirror Lake stretched out, lit by the full moon that stained the stone of the balcony a pearlescent white, and movement just past the archway tugged her on a rope of curiosity. She paced forward a few steps, and spotted the slender form of the blonde Rider standing before the cloaked man, her arms stretched upwards as if to reach beneath his hood and cup his face.

The quarter-elf knew the look that flickered across Ashadel's face as the man's hands caught her wrists, quiet words traded as he lowered them down. It was a look that she was certain she had worn sometimes; the look of pain when one had just run flailing into a wall that could never be seen. A wall they had met several times before. No good at reading lips, and not willing to pry into what was clearly a private and painful moment, Maeve backed away silently, bumping the still-muttering Tyler as she did.

"Ah! This way!" The brunette fairly flew down a hallway that had been worn smooth by expert hands, sconces flaring to life to light their path with warm hues. She stopped before a wooden door set into the stone, and pulled the large ring that served to aid in the opening of the heavy wood. With it opened, she swept her hand inwards. "Welcome to my room. Well," she grinned, "our room. Go ahead."

Maeve blinked, but entered the room which was quickly lit not by torches, but by a large fire that sprouted in the fireplace against one wall. Two large four-poster beds flanked a window embedded in the stone, a few pillows tossed onto the shelf beneath the window. Books littered the floor around the window, and Maeve smiled inwardly. Heavy curtains hung from each bedframe, providing privacy if it was wished, and Maeve's inspection of the bed that she was pointed to was finalized with a timid mounting as she tried to find her way through the generous blankets and soft sheets, finally flopping onto the pillows with a groan.

"I know. Best you've ever slept on, huh?"

Maeve muttered a muffled response, providing no resistance at all as Tyler easily swept her under the blankets, tucking her in like a child – complete with the kiss on the forehead.

"I'll show you around more in the morning. You should get rest now, and then we can go to the baths before class. No rest for the wicked, as they – uhm..." Tyler smiled, running fingers through the dark golden hair now splayed over the pillow, sighing as she realized her friend was already deep in the arms of sleep. "Nice to meet you, Maeve."

Turning from the sleeping woman, Tyler hummed softly as she climbed into her own bed, closing the drapes tightly before tossing her clothes out. There was a brief rustling, and then the room fell silent. As their breathing evened out and became matched, the fire in the fireplace dimmed to a low smolder, leaving the silver light of the moon to overpower the golden hues.


	3. Chapter 3

I took great liberty in this chapter, and had a blast. Creating the history dictated here in this chapter was not hard, given Blizzard's constant insistence that it is World of _War_craft. It was actually this chapter that really had me going forward with this project, because it was just too much fun to create something so dark and heartbreaking. Vaguely inspired by the first time you speak to Wrathion in Pandaria, this really made me think of just what would happen if that foreboding scenario played out. Unfortunately, this is the only in-depth history chapter at this time. Each of the arcs have more history given, but most if it is delicately hinted at.

* * *

"Are you awake yet?"

The question had been a persistent one, with each round driving Maeve further beneath the pillows. As Tyler's question picked up the pace, Maeve's mind traded sleep for payback, and she launched one of the pillows at her roommate as the human finally dragged open the curtains, bowling her over with a cry of shock. A second pillow was tossed, and in a matter of moments, the room was filled with laughter and the thud of pillows meeting flesh, sending feathers flying into the air to swirl on the eddies of pillow-formed currents.

Neither noticed the door open, or close behind the bemused figure of Ashadel. It took the clearing of her throat several times before either paused, looking sheepishly to the elder elf, each slowly sliding their half-filled pillows behind their backs in a failed attempt to hide the destroyed fabric. Ashadel simply shrugged, holding out the folded pile of fabric to Maeve, who tossed aside her pillow to gather up the soft cloth.

"A few simple gowns for you to use until we can get you down to Hearth for a proper fitting for clothes of your own. There's no uniform here, so you're free to find what suits you best. I just noticed that your bag," she pulled the forgotten satchel off her belt, holding it out, "didn't have anything other than a few sewing supplies. Which I'm sure will be needed, as I simply guessed at what might fit. Once you fill out, it may be a different story. Here," Ashadel reached forward, separating a filmy white garment from the others, placing a folded green one with it, trading the larger pile for the two with Maeve before setting the rest on the bed.

"Sorry about the pillows, Ash. We must have gotten a little carried away..." Tyler chewed her bottom lip, shuffling her flattened pillow in her hand before tossing it onto her open bed.

"You, I dare say, have a habit of getting a little carried away." Ashadel's eyes danced with mirth and tease, and she offered a wink before slipping to the window and pushing it open. Her hand lifted in an almost careless gesture, and the feathers lifted on a breeze, zipping out the window in a cloud of white. The window shut behind the escaping feathers, leaving the Rider to stride back to the door with a grin. "The birds love using the down. Come on. You'll want a bath before your first class, won't you?"

Maeve shot Tyler a look, caught between question and surprise, and both girls scrambled after the woman as she vanished around the corner and back down the hall. Daylight illuminated the hallways that had been cast into shadow on her first passing, and she quickly realized that there had been a method to Tyler's madness the night before – the halls were a maze, new tunnels branching off from the main every twenty feet, their depths locked behind doors or simply vanishing into darkness that wasn't able to be pierced by light.

Laughter accompanied their steps, guiding them to the baths. The pools were filled with students, most dutifully bathing themselves while a rare few were far busier bathing the others that inhabited the pool with them. Several shouted greetings to the Rider as she passed by each pool, and at one she paused to push on the soaped head of a green-haired elf, dunking him before she skipped out of the way of his grasp. His eyes tracked Ashadel, and Maeve shared a shy grin with him before following the woman and Tyler out into the private baths.

The hallway was almost stiflingly warm, the sides bearing curtains of thick fabric every thirty feet, five to each side. Tyler peeled off into one of the open curtains, shaking her head as Maeve tried to follow. Wounded, Maeve pouted for a moment as the heavy fabric closed her off from her friend, glancing at Ashadel. The woman beckoned her, and she followed her into a large room closed off from the rest of the bath. A single large pool was sunk into the floor, the water mirror-like for all it's stillness.

"Teacher's tub," the woman explained, moving to a shelf in the wall to deposit the slim silver dagger taken from her boot and the dual blades hung on her belt. "You can use it for right now, since I thought you'd like a little time to have questions answered before it becomes harder to catch me. I'm being sent back through the Gate tonight, so..." She glanced back at Maeve, her lips quirked. "Bathing is usually easier naked, dear."

"Yeah," Maeve swallowed as Ashadel stripped, leather pulled away to reveal a slender body riddled with thin scars and marks of combat. A decorative tattoo hugged her left hip, roses and thorns extending halfway down the thigh. Her right ankle bore another mark, a black decoration of a feline claw and wolf fang surrounded by old runes, and as she turned around, Maeve spotted a rune-like design on her stomach, surrounding the navel in thin lines and dots. "Easy for you to say..." she muttered, feeling inadequate alongside the confidence the Rider exuded. "Now I know what Tyler meant."

Ashadel peered at the girl for a moment, then sighed. "Your body is nothing I haven't seen before in the mirror." Her hands reached, pulling the rough fabric to help it off Maeve's shoulders and lower, her too-thin body offering no resistance to the fabric's journey to the floor. "I was like you, once. A victim, someone used and treated poorly. It took me a long time to come to accept what I saw reflected in the looking glass, and even longer to learn to love it. So don't, not even for a moment, think that you're alone. You'll find that many of those we bring from Azeroth are in your same situation." The woman's hands slid down her arms, gently resting on bony hips. "You'll heal, Maeve. I can promise that much. Until then!"

Maeve squealed as she was lifted and then dropped into the pleasantly warm water, shattering the mirror surface into a thousand droplets, tripled as the Rider slid in next to her, tossing over a thick cloth and a bar of soap.

"Go ahead and ask your questions." Ashadel twisted her hair around a hand, pinning it atop her head. For the first time, Maeve noticed the ring of metal around her neck, and the faintly pinkened skin beneath it, only a few shades different from her normal skin tone. The woman smirked, shaking her head. "Find a different question. Preferably related to you, your reason for being here, the Academy, or the new world. The important things." She proceeded to scoop water onto her shoulders and neck, scrubbing carefully beneath the collar and then lower.

"I – ah..." Maeve pursed her lips, her curiosity blazing and yet shut down by the Rider's dismissal. Flustered, she grasped for the first thing she could, feeling foolish as she spoke it. "Tyler mentioned classes, but I haven't seen or been given a schedule or... you know. Things like that." She stared as Ashadel lifted a leg, bracing it on the edge of the pool to wash while she spoke.

"Classes are voluntary, to a point. On Azeroth, it was different. If you were talented in the arcane, you learned what was needed to harness the power needed to work your magic. If you were talented with the earth," she swirled a hand in the water, trading legs in a graceful movement, "you get the point. Here, magic doesn't work the same way." The woman paused, then shook her head. "Well, not quite true. The Headmistress will be able to explain it better, should you choose to learn about the magic of this world, or magic in general.

"The Academy is composed of adults, not children. Children choose what they dream of being; little girls want to be talented dancers so they throw themselves at their betters in hopes of apprenticeships, and little boys engage in war that has been twisted into some magical experience that the bards sing of. Adults don't, choosing instead to logically take what will keep them alive, but also what they will enjoy. Most adults understand that you cannot change your mind from one week to the next about what will be the best for you.

"To that end, there are no forced classes. You must, of course, attend something... there's no living here and doing nothing, unless you want to be part of the servants, and even they learn mediocre magic. The Headmistress is a very careful woman. There are a good number of classes, and once you know what you want to do, then you can find the right paths to the ones that will benefit you best.

"I'm assuming that you're not certain about anything at all, so you may want to simply attend the classes that are made for anyone, even the people who live in the towns on the shores of the lake." Ashadel slipped to the side of the bath, pulling herself up onto the edge. "I would highly recommend attending Eaxoa's class. It's important that you understand what happened on Azeroth, and how things have been going here. On top of that, she can tell you even more about your mother and father, and what they were a part of before you were born."

"I was... sort of hoping you could do that. Tell me about my mother, I mean." She combed fingers through her hair, accepting the brush tossed to her, running the fine bristles through the tangled tresses.

"There is very little that I can tell you that others could not tell you more about. Your mother was a beautiful woman, frail but very strong in her power. You will not hear me say this often, but at the time of your mother's greatest strength, she rivaled that of the Headmistress' mother. She was talented, and had a love of life that no one could ever hope to match." Propped back on the heels of her palms, the Rider let her feet swirl through the water. "She was very unlike an elf, now that I consider it. Not like most elves are described, at least. Passionate lover, too." She flashed a quick grin at Maeve's grimace, and shrugged. "What can I say? I couldn't resist."

"Seems like you can't resist much," Maeve parried, then flushed. "I'm sorry, that sounds so much worse when it is actually out of my head and into the air. I really didn't mean it like that..."

Ashadel laughed, enjoying her blundering. "I was a whore, once. Some would argue that I remain one to this day, but I like to think that there is a difference between the women of a brothel, and women like myself. I'm perfectly capable of resisting, I simply don't. Everyone deserves contact, everyone deserves the feel of someone against them, the fulfilling feel of mutual pleasure is something that cannot be replicated on one's own. It's my addiction, but I learned to turn it into something that benefits everyone. There is nothing wrong with it, no shame to be had. Unless it is intended. No insults taken, Maeve."

Breathing out in relief, Maeve considered her next question while scrubbing the dirt from her arms. "Who was the man that came in and left with you yesterday? You were together later, too..." Her eyes caught the pained look before her question was even finished, and she shook her head. "Nevermind! Um, you said we'd go shopping for clothes later, but I don't really have any gold..."

"You do. Your mother received a moderate sum for her duties within the organization, and it was saved for her when she left in the event that she returned. She never did, but the coin was kept once we learned of you, for who else was to be granted the gold your mother rightfully owned? Not your father, for certain." The woman didn't bother hiding her displeasure, ears twitching as a sound like the chime of a bell radiated through the stone. Outside the door, voices could be heard laughing and fading, their bearers vacating the steam pools as if bidden by the sound. "Time for you to pick a class."

"Would you do the history one? The class, I mean." Maeve's eyes tracked the woman as she stood and redressed.

"I'll put it this way. When you have spent even an hour in the class, you will come to see what could have been thwarted if anyone, even just a single person, listened. It is our fault, Maeve. All that happened to Azeroth could have been avoided if we had cast away our pride and listened to those who were wiser. Who were smarter. By learning the past, by seeing those mistakes so clearly, we can prevent them from ever being present again. It may make us out to be scared children, but..." The Rider shook her head. "We have reason to be afraid. So much reason. Now then, up out of the water with you."

The sorrow that had her words had swam in was gone as she assisted Maeve out of the bath, helping her dry quickly before braiding her hair and pulling the white garment over her head. The green followed suit as an outer dress over the softer cloth, and Maeve couldn't help but spin a few times in the dress that was richer than anything she had ever worn before. Opening the door with them both fully dressed, Ashadel gestured for Maeve to leave first, and they joined Tyler at the end of the hall.

"History?" Tyler wrinkled her nose after Maeve explained which class she wished to attend, then gave a heavy sigh. "I was hoping you'd choose something interesting like, I don't know... the magical creatures class. Or the protections class. You know, something fun."

"We'll do that one after. We can do that, right?" Maeve beamed as Ashadel nodded, and took Tyler's hands in her own. "Please? I promise, we'll do whatever you want after it. Right after it, even. Well, maybe after food. Promise, promise, promise..." She dipped and wiggled, bumping her head playfully against Tyler's stomach, unaware of the quick intake of breath from her friend.

"Yeah, yeah. Okay. We'll go," Tyler muttered with an uncomfortable shift, shooting a glance at Ashadel, who piped up and slung and arm around the brunette.

"Maeve, why don't you go wait for us outside? There's a balcony just across the way..." Ashadel moved, guiding Tyler into one of the alcoves, drawing the curtain before Maeve had time to do much more than open her mouth to question the request, then snap it shut. Shuffling out of the bathing room, Maeve found the balcony, and waited.

Tyler's mood was well improved when she and the Rider joined Maeve, the younger women following the elder through the corridors up to the main floor of the Academy and then out onto the grounds. Ashadel led them to a large opening in the wall of the rock that the castle seemed to be made from, and the three of them stepped into a large cavern, completely smooth save for the floor, which had been recessed level by level to provide, as Maeve discovered by a simple look around at those who had already gathered, seating places.

In the very middle of the room stood a circular altar – or what she would consider an altar, as she knew very few tables made of stone or quite so large. Atop this massive, though very plain, circular table sat a single item. At first glance, it seemed to be little more than a very large pearl just slightly larger than the table in diameter. As the sole decoration in the entire room it was fairly underwhelming, but there was an allure to the object that made one wish for a second or third look. The item seemed to contain smoke, thickly filling the inside of a sphere whose surface was equally milky. The smoke moved slowly, barely noticeable but all the more compelling.

Following Tyler to a seat a few places back from the center, she lets her eyes wander around, catching Ashadel moving to speak to two figures on the far side of the room. The first was easily recognized as the woman introduced simply as, "Eaxoa." A good head taller than the elf, the two spoke comfortably while the third seemed simply to listen. Shorter than Eaxoa but just a bit taller than the elf, there was some distant resemblance seen between the two draenei.

Though her horns were much smaller than most, they were decorated much the same as Eaxoa's: thin cord had been drawn through holes along the horns, decorating the lower half and enabling small charms to be hung from the cord. But aside the darker shade of skin and the curiously tipped ears, the resemblances seemed to cease. This young woman had no hooves, instead standing on delicate feet like any human or elf. In her hands she held a long staff, leaning on it as if for support and partly boredom. Her clothes were minimal: a simple leather halter-harness of soft white, and a two-paneled skirt wrapped with white leather belts on her hips that left her legs bare. Around her head, covering her eyes, was a strip of white cloth.

The three conversed for a time, until the flow of students entering for the class seemed to slow and then cease. The chatter died as Eaxoa stepped to one of the walls, grazing fingers along the stone in a horizontal pattern. Behind the last student, the cave mouth shut with a resounding slam, sending the last student just barely arrived into a hurried half-leap that landed him into the lap of a rather large and muscled troll. The laughter that the action brought made the elven man grin sheepishly, but the troll simply looped an arm around his waist, keeping him in the spot.

Eaxoa's voice rose, and Maeve quickly decided that she did not regret choosing this as her first class. The voice held a warmth that was almost maternal, and though completely neutral, somehow carried the joy of her position as the teacher. Ashadel and the unknown woman faded into the darkness while the sphere set in the middle of the room began to glow, sending out a chilly silver-blue light that illuminated the first few rows of stone steps and the students that sat there.

"My name, as many of you already know, is Eaxoa. Like many of my people, I carry no surname as many of you do. I was born several thousand years ago on a planet known as Argus, which has long since fallen. I was a refugee, and a survivor. In this, I am exactly like you." The soft click of her hooves on the smooth stone accompanied her words as she circled the table slowly, observing her students. "I have spent my many years learning of all that I can, be it by book or personal experience. My people, as you are well aware, are virtually immortal. That leaves me plenty of time to learn at my leisure. On the Exodar, I was a teacher. I cared for the younglings, and prepared them for their lives as adults. I told stories of the planets we had lived on and then been forced to flee from.

"In this manner, I have continued the history of my people. I have kept them alive, even through disaster. So it was no question as to what I would choose to do when the Headmistress spoke of founding an institution to teach the races in manners of magic and combat. To me, history is a weapon that is rarely used. Knowledge is a power that many take for granted, but with it firmly in your hand, you are more powerful than any who would choose to ignore it.

"Upon reaching this new world, we were saddened to learn of how much we had lost. The scant few books that made it through the Gate would hardly fill a cart, let alone an entire library. We mourned the loss of knowledge as one would a family member, and it has taken us several years to repair the holes left behind. Should you visit the library within the academy, you will find that there are several more books than there were originally. That is only by the effort of another teacher, who is as addicted to knowledge as I am.

"The books were a terrible loss, but we learned swiftly that there was something special about this new planet. It was on a stormy night clear on the Ivory Coast when we encountered our first sentient humanoids. You will learn of them in coming classes, but for today I beseech you to lay aside that curiosity. Communication between our peoples was very difficult at first – we had no idea that there were humanoid races, and certainly hadn't had time to consider racial barriers. After days of trying to communicate, we were granted an audience with what seemed to be a lorekeeper of sorts.

"It was then that we discovered that they had the ability to see into the minds of those they touched, or perhaps only a rare few of them have this skill there without assistance – we're still learning. What they learned from us was that we were a frightened group of people searching for a new home where we could exist and recuperate. I believe, also, that these people could feel that we had suffered a great loss, and the importance of that loss was interesting to them.

"And so, we were granted the Arcaenum." She paused, resting her fingertips on the side of the pulsing sphere. The light brightened beneath her touch, and wisps of the smoke seemed to reach through the surface and wrap like a lover's fingers around hers. "They brought this from the depths of the sea, and offered it. Though we had no idea what it's purpose as when we first received it, it did not take us long to find out. With such a precious gift given, we gave what little we had that we could part with. The Headmistress gave the Lorekeeper several rare gems that were priceless even on Azeroth, and I relinquished several trinkets that can never be replaced. It was the beginning of our peace negotiations.

"These people, who had already given us a priceless gift, also sent us in the direction of Mirror Lake. You may recall the name from a body of water located in Elwynn Forest," she smiled, but it was sad, "or you may not. Some of us were loathe to lose our home planet so completely. We made our homes here, and over the years, we have played host to the race that saved us." Her hand drew away from the orb, the wisps of smoke clinging for a few moments and then retreating back into the orb.

"I require a volunteer, preferably someone who was a part of the escape from Azeroth." Her silver eyes fell on an elderly man seated in the front row, and she offered her hand to him. "If you would, please."

The man took her hand, accepting her help as he approached the orb. The silver glow sent his deep wrinkles into sharp relief, his dark eyes almost bleached by the shine. As Eaxoa released his hand, he placed his palms on the orb's surface, flinching as the wisps of smoke appeared again and embraced his fingers, trailing up his hand and along his arm. Over his skin, shimmering runes appeared, blazing silver in fine lines. They swarmed along his arms and upwards, framing his face and covering his balding head.

"The Arcaenum has become one of the most precious possessions of the Academy, for this reason." The darkened room blazed with light, sending most of the student into a frenzied stir to cover their eyes. Moments later, there were shrieks of fear that echoed off the cavern walls, silenced quickly by the raised hands of the draenei.

"There is nothing to fear," the woman claimed as the massive claw of a dragon descended upon her and the man, threatening to crush the orb itself. The tension was palpable, several cries of shock expelled as the claw vanished and the room itself changed. The stone carved itself into cliffs and valleys, ice cracking into place while snow dusted the ground so realistically that several students pulled up their feet to escape it. A shout went up, and the students looked up to spy an enormous giant of stone lobbing an equally giant boulder straight at their heads. The scene vanished before it could land, snow replaced with stretches of grassland as far as the eye could see, the sky unmarred by clouds though several strange islands seemed to float blissfully above the rolling plains.

Her voice was a whisper, but it cut through the shock like a knife through butter. "Welcome to the memories of a man who has seen much, and now lets us view them as though he were simply a book that we might page through." Her hands stretched forward, taking the man by the shoulders and gently pulling him away. The glow, and runes, left his skin and he was guided back to his seat while still wearing a confused expression. Eaxoa remained beside him as she spoke.

"With the aid of this gift, we have been able to replace countless books, scribing the words from long forgotten tomes simply by having them displayed through the Arcaenum. There is no person who teaches at this Academy who has not given their memories to this orb, and all who wish to volunteer their own are welcome to. It does not hurt, but I will freely admit that the experience is very odd." She laid her hand gently on his shoulder, and the old man patted it like a grandfather might do to the hand of his children.

"It began," Eaxoa's voice took on that of a story-teller about to unfold a saga, "with sickness." Maeve's ears twitched at a grunt from behind her, quickly masked by the gasps of surprise as the room became a sickbay, filled with beds that contained the forms of countless individuals. Men, women, and children alike were being cared for by women garbed in the robes of initiates. "Long ago, sickness came before to the world en mass, and the results were catastrophic." Figures began to move ghostlike through the room, horrible abominations of rotting flesh and stark bones that walked and shambled as men might. They faded as she continued speaking, though the sickbay and it's occupants remained.

"The sickness began to claim lives faster than we could tend to those who fell ill." The beds began to empty, leaving fading images of bodies being carried from the room, of the priests performing last rites, of beds being stripped and remade until the room at last was empty. "As the death toll began to rise, blame was quick to come to the surface. At first, we considered it simply a fluke. Illness was not uncommon, and there was nothing that said we couldn't have brought back something from the wilds of Pandaria during our excursions. But the sickness began to spread too fast, and so the blame began."

The sickbay faded, changing instead to a darkened land sparse of trees, with a formidable fortress perched atop a hill. Banners of blue, depicting a pale half-face, fluttered in what seemed to be a barely living land. "The Forsaken," a host of walkers came from the front gates, different from the earlier abominations if only because they talked to each other as any community might, some with their backs straight and others bent, some dressed in resplendent robes while others wore tattered leathers, "were a race of people who were once human, but had since died and suffered the horror of undeath. Under the rule of their Queen, a ranger once a part of the kingdom of Quel'thalas, it was well known that they carried out experiments not entirely healthy to other populations."

A woman strode through the crowd, her dark skin and searing red eyes covered partly by a billowing, tattered red cloak. A mighty bow was slung across her back, and she viewed the surroundings with the look of one waiting for something to happen. "Sylvanas was revered by her people, and she had partaken in things that were deemed dark and horrible. The Forsaken, considerably dead, were incapable of breeding. With no births, the population would decrease as wars and madness forced deaths. It was thought that this sickness, by then dubbed a plague, was another plot for the Queen to grow the numbers of her subjects.

"The varied races of the Horde and Alliance rebelled against this idea, and many attempts to reason with the Queen were made, especially by the Sin'dorei, of whom were a few of the descendants of the very race that Sylvanas had been born to. The Queen did not respond well to the accusations." Pillars appeared flanking the gates, the decapitated heads of varied races gazing blankly out over the scene. "She denied that any such plague had been released, and took to killing those who had come to lay blame. It was not long before war broke out, and the Forsaken were destroyed, down to the very last walking corpse. Sylvanas was captured," the students became witnesses as the Queen was bound with shackles, iron chains pulling tight, "and executed."

The scene changed as the Queen's body was pulled apart by four horses, her dying scream echoing in the cavern before brutally cutting off. "We should have listened." Eaxoa's tone was grave as the scenes progressed, fields of graves appearing in time-lapsed fashion. "We should have known. The Forsaken, even with how small their population was, were a creative and cunning group. Their demise did not cease the sickness, and though we tried to play it as though it was now simply a disease that would die out, there were some who had a feeling that the worst was only just on the horizon.

"It was three years of bitter war from the beginning of the sicknesses to the execution of the Queen. We had lost much, but we tried to continue on. Without the Forsaken occupying the land, the elves of Quel'thalas and the humans of Silverpine Forest began to take back their lands. Each wanted what they were entitled to. Battles broke out once again, with the only truly peaceful nation being that of the worgen in Gilneas."

The dark and haunting forests of Gilneas sprouted up around the students, humanoid wolves conversing on farms or working in mines, building homes that had been torn down, and discarding debris into massive bonfires whose ash was carried off over the cliffs and into the sea on invisible winds. "Without the Forsaken, the Gilnean people could claim their home, and only their home. That's all they wanted, but those who had long desired to claim their lands back became angry with the Gilnean people, and once more a wall was built between the countries; this time, as protection against former allies and not as a glaring act of withdrawal.

"When that wall opened again but two years later, it was to war between the humans of Lordaeron and the elves of Quel'thalas. The elves were losing, their population so much smaller than that of the humans, and the closest ally to the Sin'dorei had already been wiped out. Desperation became common," Gilneas faded, revealing the glittering city of Quel'thalas, gold and marble streets bloodied and corpse filled, "and even then, we did not see the coming." Eaxoa moved, and the scene dissolved like smoke around her, plunging the room into silver-lit darkness.

"Quel'thalas was the first to fall," the city appeared again, glittering spires turned to rubble amidst the cone of rock that spewed ash and from which lava flowed, burning the once glorious city and burying it. The forests were gone, razed by unknown hands. "Pray, children, that you will never see what the city did." Quel'thalas fell away as the sky took precedence, and the flying forms of grotesque monsters could be seen. "It is unknown exactly what happened. Those who were in the city at the time of the attack were killed when the volcano appeared. There is a rumor that a single mage summoned the deathly cone, unwilling to let her city fall into the grasp of the worst enemy known to the world, but... we don't know.

"The Legion, long missing from our world after the last attempt at a foothold, had appeared again. As swiftly as they had come, they were gone again, leaving the ruins of the elven city behind." Eaxoa waved away the scene, and Maeve frowned as another panting breath filtered from behind her, as it had been doing for several minutes. Determined to focus on what was an enthralling story to her, she ignored it and watched as another land bloomed around them. "At first, we denied the existence of the Legion, but it was not like the elves to be so flamboyant about their destruction for something small. Forays out to the charred wasteland revealed haunting clues that sent fear into the hearts of those who were wise."

Stormwind rose from the ground, the audience privy to the chambers of the High King as a demonic blade was laid across his table. They watched in silence as he argued vehemently with Velen and Tyrande, and both left the room with the man still yelling at their backs, their faces set in grim determination. "Alliances that had been forged began to crumble as believers separated themselves from those who refused to believe. The proof was so small, anything could have dropped the weapons that had been collected. Everyone truly wished to believe that. It was our mistake."

"We were warned, by one who had spent his entire life devoted to killing demons and those who would summon them." Several figures appeared, most familiar from the night before. They stood facing a massive man, his dark wine-purple skin tinted by the candles that hovered around the group. His muscled body flexed as he gestured to the broken corpse at his feet, his hands stained red with blood. "He warned us that there would be worse if we did not convince the world to cease their dabbing. He vowed he would continue to kill, even those who would dare summon the most pitiful of demonic familiars." The kaldorei male cut his hand through the air in a decisive gesture and turned away from the group, his motions speaking of a barely reined in violence. As he stalked from the room, the Headmistress could be seen looking after him, worry creasing her brow. The dress she wore was bloodied, small scratches marring her cheeks.

"We were warned," her voice was quiet as the room changed. The mighty human city was replaced by tall spires of purple tiling and opaque windows, the mages of Dalaran running through streets of blood as massive winged figures dragged those few who tried to fight into the air and threw the bodies until it rained with the soon to be dead. "Dalaran, likely considered a threat by the Legion, was destroyed utterly. There were few who escaped, though they are hardly proud of it." The city crumbled under the assault, becoming a shadow of itself. "From Dalaran, the Legion moved to the nearby castle of Lordaeron, in the midst of being rebuilt since being reclaimed from the Forsaken, and that was demolished as well.

"Survivors fled where they could, and the Legion followed some to Gilneas. It is here where the Legion's blood was drawn, but at a great cost." The city of Gilneas set the background for the scene, demons bearing down on a small group of figures. One was immediately familiar; the tall woman who had been named Commander of the Wardens the night before. Eaxoa's voice was quiet even as she, considerably more armored, appeared as well. "There was one, among the many strong hearts of Gilneas, that refused to give up. Her name was Brinella, and I tell you her name not only so that you might remember her as a hero, but also because she was as dear to me as a child of my own blood might be."

The last figure glanced back at the two, her emerald robes moving to show the crumbled and broken form of a man at her feet. Two children appeared from beneath the cloak that billowed in the wind despite the rain, and both fled towards the knight. Tears streamed from the woman's eyes, curiously glowing as no human woman's should, her lips moving to send words echoing ghost-like through the cavern.

"Don't let them win, Tria. Take my children, guard them, and when they have grown, tell them that their parents died defending the land that is rightfully theirs." Her words faded, her eyes becoming a deeper, richer green as her hands lifted. Words were yelled, lost in the storm that was brewing, and the knight turned and fled towards a large gryphon that kneeled, taking children and woman into the air with a few beats of snow-white wings. Eaxoa remained, and the woman known only as Brinella smiled a smile saved only for those so dear before closing her eyes.

The earth lurched, so real that several students screamed as roots as thick as a dragon burst from the ground, winding to encase the woman and the man at her feet. Eaxoa turned and ran, and shadows in the distance hinted that the roots had appeared elsewhere. As Eaxoa and her gryphon took wing, the students watches vines spring from cracks and valleys, chasing down land-bound demons and impaling them while the ever growing roots shot to the sky and granted death to those demons not fast enough to escape the terrible wrath of the woman and her beloved earth. As demons began to flee, the roots spread upwards, Eaxoa and her gryphon barely making it through the last tiny hole before they slammed together, and the entire country of Gilneas was encased in a wall of roots that encompassed even several hundred feet of the air above it. "Gilneas has remained completely impenetrable, and no on knows if the residents survive beneath the canopy, but I know that my precious student died that day, and those who knew her mourned the loss of one of theirs."

She allowed a quiet moment, and the insistent soft groans that came from behind Maeve finally irritated the quarter-elf enough that she turned to find out what was going on. She blinked, caught off guard by the sight of the elven man from before with his legs hooked over the arms of the troll he had fallen upon, his robes hitched up high enough that the trolls massive erection could very plainly be seen pumping in and out of the smaller man's ass at a languid pace. The troll caught her eyes, grinning wickedly as his pace sped up for a few moments, fairly throwing the elven man a few inches in the air to land hard, impaled on his cock. Flustered, Maeve turned around and focused her attentions back on Eaxoa, who stood on the rocking shadow of a boat.

"Brinella's sacrifice stirred those who heard of it, and for several years, there were more sacrifices that gave hope to the people. But the Legion was unending, and they had begun to tempt those who sought a better end than being a corpse. It was no longer a fight against the Legion, but a fight that included those who had been friends and family just years before. We were losing, and so we escaped to the last place that we could think of that would be a home for us. We made it to Pandaria, and for a few months, we were safe.

"But safety doesn't come without a cost. Pandaria itself was dangerous, and the Sha were always a force to be reckoned with. We had traded one terror for another, and then it became even worse, when we thought it could not." The boat faded, and the ground became the dark landscape that was familiar to those who had known of the Mantid. Several of the insectoid humanoids stood beside an army of mixed races as the ground broke open beneath the cloven hoof of an enormous figure, red skin cut with the black-gray of the Sha.

"We had never considered it. We had never thought it, and when we were faced with the reality of it, it was as if we were staring into the eyes of hell." The clouds parted, wings spreading from the giant figure that threw his head back and roared. From the smoke and mist came others, lesser in size but equal in fearsome appearance – demons touched by Sha, graying skin setting them apart from the normals reds and dark greens. "The Sha found the demons to be easy targets, for who would dare resist such great power? Certainly not those who had succeeded in demolishing entire planets before. The carnage was... we had no chance. The Mantid were a mighty force of allies, but even they fell... so we ran."

Plains of green grass spread out around the room, a cowering group of no more than a thousand people of various races swarming over the once peaceful valley. "When we could find no safe haven, we reached into the last bit of what we had, and we decided to try the impossible. What else was there to lose?" Five people stood alone, though none were familiar but the slender figure of the Headmistress. With arms outstretched, they called on magics that pulsed through the air, a giant rune slowly etching itself into the ground beneath their feet.

The outer ring of people turned to face the clouds on the horizon, as demons flocked towards them. More turned to meet the threat, a circle of protective bodies forming around the channelers. The rune carved itself, and as the design completed, there was a burst of power and a tear in the air appeared, wrenching itself open further. Those closest to the portal began taking children and animals through, flooding past the channelers, careful not to disturb them. The demons descended upon the shrinking group, aimed for those holding open the rift. Behind Kas'viri, the scarred male kaldorei drew the broadsword from his back and settled into a defensive stance.

There was a slowing of time as the two forces collided, and then the demons pushed through. Death was swift for many as the Sha-touched hellions carved a bloody path through the crowd towards the portal. The defenders, stretched too thin, could do little more than watch as two of the five channelers were cut down, and the rift began to waver. The crowd panicked as the tear began to seal, a herd of people attempting to make it through.

Ashadel appeared, carrying a young boy in her arms, shoving a brunette in front of her through the portal, a blonde male following right after. Two of the remaining channelers had turned to face the oncoming horde, the salt-and-pepper haired human male stepping in front of the silver-haired kaldorei as they worked together to buy those who fled more time. The wine-skinned kaldorei joined them, shouting something back to those nearest to the dying portal. Whatever was said, Kas'viri reacted strongly to, and Ashadel lunged forward to grab the smaller woman around the waist before she could join the three, hauling her back through the portal.

They fell through eternity, landing hard on a hard stone cliff, and with a shudder that shook their surroundings, the rift snapped shut, leaving only the face of cold stone. Survivors crowded them, splitting off as the distraught half-elf stood and ran back to the cliff face, slamming her small hands against the unyielding material. The crowd was quiet, some watching the woman beat the stone until blood stained the surface. Others looked away, holding weeping children to their chests. Kas'viri was halfway through drawing a design on the rock with her fingers when she lost the will to stand, and Eaxoa approached to gather the sobbing and defeated woman into her arms.

The scene faded, and Maeve caught the glimmer of tears on Ashadel's cheeks from across the room before the woman looked away as if shamed. When Eaxoa spoke, there was sorrow in her voice. "It was hard to think of it as a success. Only a handful of those we had hoped to get through the portal had actually managed it. Those who survived did so in body, but the minds took much longer to heal.

"Remember this, children. Remember our follies, and use this knowledge to prevent it from ever happening again." Eaxoa's fingers reached to the wall, combing along in the reverse of what they had done before, and light flooded the chamber as the cave mouth opened again. "In our next class, we will cover the first few years of our adaptation here. You are dismissed." The class rose nearly as one, leaving in small groups or in pairs, more subdued than they had been when they arrived. Behind Maeve, the elven man gave one last groan before the troll lifted his frail body off of him, letting his thickened shaft fall from the elf's ass before he stood up and left, leaving the man to clean himself.

Maeve was helped to her feet by Tyler, and the two left the room together, but not before Maeve looked back at Ashadel, finding the woman being held in the arms of the draenei, her shoulders shuddering with soft sobs. Tyler tugged her sleeve, and the two stepped into the sunlight, wiping tears from their cheeks.

"Breakfast?" Tyler muffled a sniffle in her sleeve.

"Yeah. Breakfast."


	4. Chapter 4

"I think," Tyler brushed crumbs off her dress as they broke into the sunlight again, "that if that class means we walk out of there crying every single time, we're going to need a considerably happy class after it. I don't think I can take that much depression in one sitting. Look at this, crumbs everywhere." She stopped, lifting her skirts and shaking them vigorously out. "I knew I shouldn't have eaten so many of those biscuits. But they were so good," she whined, sighing.

Maeve smiled, reaching a hand out to touch a low hanging branch while her friend made herself decent. "My father never talked about all of that. I grew up thinking that everyone had landed such a huge blow, but all of that... it was horrible. How many times do you think they've had to watch that, on top of remembering it?"

"I don't know. Countless, I'd guess. The Academy isn't that old, but I'm willing to bet that's one of the first things that they set up for people. You're braver than I am, to want to go back. I'm not stepping foot in there without you. That whole class is just... blegh." The brunette slipped close, wrapping her arms around one of Maeve's, squishing close. "But, you promised we'd go to the animal one next, sooo... off we go!"

Tyler released her and skipped ahead a ways, spinning in the sunlight that poured into the courtyard. Maeve, still holding some sorrow from the earlier class, couldn't help but smile while watching the antics of her friend. Her pace picked up as Tyler vanished into an arch of stone, and the two broke out into a large clearing hosting a crowd gathered near a large corral. Maeve picked out several familiar faces as they approached; clearly, her chosen group was more fond of animals than the other tables.

"Well, this is considerably underwhelming. Where's the teacher?" Tyler frowned, looking around and breaking off to speak to some of the other students while Maeve peered around. Her eyes fell on three figures on the far side of the corral. One was easily familiar, the silver-streaked golden hair of the Rider leader glistening on the strong sunlight. Maeve smiled as the woman laughed, the sound carrying over the area, soothing the worry the quarter-elf had. After all, if the woman was laughing, surely she was no longer hurting from the Arcaenum's memories.

The other two she had less knowledge of. Closest to the Rider was a man with copper hair, his lengthy upright ears marking him unmistakably as either quel'dorei or sin'dorei. The arm he extended to grasp Ashadel's lifted hand was garbed in leathers of dark blue, nearly black, though his cloak kept most of him covered. Maeve watched as the Rider struck out with her other arm, and found herself ensnared and quickly drawn against the other elf as his face disappeared into the crook of her neck.

The final figure laughed, the large owl perched on his shoulder barely moving as the laughter shook the troll's massive frame. The words he spoke were impossible to decipher, and he moved with catlike grace out of the way as the elves dropped to the ground in a wild tussle that paused with the man straddling the Rider, both laughing.

"Maeve. Helloooo, Maeve!"

The quarter-elf yelped as Tyler's hand hit the back of her head, and she flashed a frown at the girl before looking back to the three. The elven male was sprawled on the ground, propped up on his elbows as laughter shook his frame. Ashadel glared down at him with hands on her hips, and the troll managed to stand only by keeping his grasp on the corral. Tearing her eyes from the scene, thoroughly wondering exactly what it was that Ashadel did if she was able to enjoy such fun while on the grounds, Maeve rubbed her head and paid attention to her friend.

"This is David, and uh... Brol'zju." Typer glanced at the troll, who nodded briefly, tightly braided green hair clicking with the beads woven at the end of the shoulder-blade length strands. "Good. I was worried I'd get that one wrong, again. My tongue doesn't quite wrap around that easily." The two shared a grin that made Maeve and David both shift uncomfortably. "Anyway, they're part of our class, and I thought that it'd be nice to get a few more friends around, you know?"

Maeve tore her eyes from the rippling muscles of the dark-skinned troll, nodding dumbly. "Yeah," she shifted away from the grinning troll, reading the obvious invitation there on his lips. Not a shy man in the least. "It's nice to meet you both. Have you been here long?"

"Nah." Brol'zju straightened briefly, rolling his shoulders and letting his dark eyes scour the figure of the quarter-elf in front of him. "Few weeks ah mos'. No' lon' aftah ya frien' dere." He motioned to Tyler, who had taken the chance to drag David away, talking animatedly with him. "Seems yah been pahned off ahn me. Don' mahnd."

"I'm sorry, I didn't ask he - ..."

"Ah don' mahnd, girlie. Nah need ta be apologizin' to ol' Brol'zju, ya?" He reached out, wrapping one arm easily around her shoulders, drawing her closer to his side as the crowd shifted. Contrary to what she believed from his easy and fairly charming grin, the troll was quite the gentleman, his fingers tapping idly on her forearm while he used his height to keep the crowd at bay. Always used to being forgotten in the crowds, Maeve found herself appreciating the guard. "Joo fahnd somethin' ya like here at de school? Little thin' ya are," his hand patted the top of her head, and he grinned at her pout. "Bes' be pickin' somethin' ta make dem others no be pickin' on ya."

"Just because I'm small, doesn't mean I can't take care of myself." Maeve glared at the troll, and he threw his head back in laughter.

"Nah, I bet ya be ah real spitfiah, girlie. But ya is too sweet. Too temptin', ya? A little bit ah powah under ya belt won' hurt ya none." He ruffled her hair again and then let the hand drop back into the comfortable place it had been. Maeve shot him another nasty look from beneath her fringe of dark gold hair, before curling against his side as the crowd shifted again, a murmur becoming gasps as something approached them from across the corral.

They were soundless save for the whisk of grass beneath them, approaching at a hard gallop that eased as they neared the corral. One bore the unmistakable qualities of a half-elf, her body too thick to be elven but too thin to be human, and her sun-touched golden hair was pulled back into a long high-tail, revealing the characteristic pointed ears that were caught somewhere between the appearance of her heritage races'. They were pierced, silver studs in each lobe bearing a small chain from which hung a single tooth of canine origin. She was dressed simply in leathers that were more for comfort than for protection, her stomach bare. A halter-tunic of russet brown covered her upper chest, linen sleeves of white guarding her skin from the sun. Her leggings matched the color of her top, the knee-high boots only a shade or two darker, likely due to travel. Across her back was strapped an unstrung bow and a quiver, both items far more detailed in design than anything she wore.

The second was similarly dressed, though her tunic was of green and encased her torso completely, the brown sleeves of her undershirt left to flow freely while her companions were bound with brown cord at the wrist. She bore only a delicately crafted staff, her wine-dark hair braided from her right temple and around the back of her neck, where the ends hung loose over her left shoulder. A streak of white could barely be seen tangled amongst the dark strands, though she could hardly be old enough to be seeing the white of age for several decades yet.

Yet, each of these figures were not entirely the focus for the crowd, let alone Maeve. It was the beasts they rode that caused the most gossip. At first glance, they seemed to be overly large horses, but Maeve could not think of a horse that had so much fur. Sleek pelts covered a slender but muscled frame, their faces more vulpine in nature than wolves. Their medium-length coats boasted longer lengths around the head, chest, and tail, giving the impression of a lion's mane. They wore no saddles, though each woman rode astride their backs as easily as if they were mere ponies.

As the lead woman dismounted, Maeve gained a better estimate of their height. The blonde seemed equal with Maeve's own height of five and a half feet, and yet the shoulder of the beast she rode was nearly two feet higher than her head. The red-head's mount seemed only a few inches shorter, though the woman herself was taller. Both canids were the color of fallen autumn leaves, with darker markings along their vulpine features.

A hiss of surprise went through the group, with even Brol'zju clasping a protective arm around Maeve's shoulders as two enormous figures slid forward from the tall grass, parting the jade foliage with thick black bodies larger than two men standing shoulder to shoulder. Serpentine bodies lifted over the railing of the corral, piercing the deathly-silent air with the strain of their bulk. The blonde grasped one of the serpent's scales along the back, ridged and raised over the entire top of their bodies, and was carried easily over the railing. The serpents coiled their enormous bodies, the smaller of the two approaching forty feet in length, with it's companion that and half again.

"Into the corral, now." Her voice was clipped and cool, matching the chill in her blue eyes. As one, despite the obvious desire of a few to turn and flee from the giants coiled within, the group stumbled, climbed, or slid between the railings to settle tight against the wood. Apparently amused, the blonde motioned back to her companion, and the woman turned and sped off with both mounts to join Ashadel and her companions before the group moved off out of sight. "My name is Houndstooth, and I will be conducting your class in the absence of Saiya. I do not enjoy simply lecturing, so you will be expected to interact in some manner in this class period. To begin, who can tell me what these are?"

Her hands fell on the heads of the serpents, stroking along the rough scales that crested over their eyes. There was silence, before someone called out, in a tone that seemed to ask if the woman herself was a fool. Her smile was as cold as her voice as she spoke. "Snakes, while an apt description at first glance, is not the correct answer. These creatures bear several differences from the simple serpents we know commonly, which you will learn over the course of this class." The chill of her gaze set itself on Maeve, and she spoke again. "Can you tell me what they eat?"

"Um," Maeve glanced up at the troll, who shrugged, before looking back at the beasts. "I'm hoping that the answer isn't humans, so I'll take an educated guess and assume... rodents?"

The blonde tipped her head in acknowledgment, and her smile seemed a bit warmer. "You are in luck. This particular strain does not find human flesh, or that of any humanoid, to be palatable. They live in the nearby swamps, where they find easy prey in the pilani and kortio that inhabit the trees and ground. You will, no doubt, learn of both types of rodent in a future class. They eat only twice a year, both times before they are ready to procreate." Her eyes went to the serpent on her left, coursing fingers almost lovingly along it's neck, over scaled skin that seemed a bit loose, and bore a striking blue tint compared to the inky black of the rest of the scales.

"The natives call them Drogasti, and legend says that they are the descendants of great wyrms that once ruled the skies. As time passed, with several changes to the environment to cause such, they lost their wings and learned to live on the ground and in trees. You," she gestured to Brol'zju, "should have a guess as to how they kill their prey?"

"Squeezin'," he answered bluntly, without missing a beat.

"Yes. Their large size negates the need for venom, though other strains that live in harsher environments have sacrificed their size for such adaptations. This strain of Drogasti, known simply as a Swamp Wyrm, catches prey and squeezes the life from it before swallowing it whole. Despite their fearsome appearance and size, they are relatively peaceful creatures who have no real fear of outside interference. There are very few predators capable of standing up to them, and fewer still that would try to get through the thick scales covering the top of their bodies. When under attack," she slipped her hand beneath the thick lower jaw of the serpent, and it raised the first twelve feet upwards slowly, revealing the slate gray, shiny bands of unprotected flesh, "they curl up tightly to protect the softer underbelly instead of fighting. It is assumed that fighting would simply expend too much energy, and for a creature that only eats twice a year... well."

The swamp wyrm lowered itself again, amber slitted eyes falling on a pair of students more involved in themselves than in the lecture, though the teacher seemed not to notice. "In the several years since we've come into contact with them, we have only seen a handful that have been killed or have died of natural causes. These two were birthed seven years apart, with the larger soon to reach the average size of a full adult. The Topani say that these giants are capable of living several decades, and they are welcomed when they appear in villages. They are intelligent, easily bonding with humanoid companions or keepers.

"But, I admit that the most curious thing about them is their reproductive habits." Houndstooth gestured towards the couple, and the corral erupted into screams as the larger beast burst into movement, striking and and separating the pair that had been more interested in speaking between themselves than listening. The male, a tauren who easily towered over the group, was thrown back against the wood as his paramour was gathered into the coils of the swamp wyrm. "I see we'll be having a demonstration." The cold tone had slipped into her voice again, and as the serpent settled itself like a king in the middle of the corral, she motioned the class closer.

"Drogasti show aggression during the pregnancy cycle, more towards the end of it than at the very beginning. The scales along the hood," she motioned to the broad flaps of skin that had stiffened to form a giant hood, "change color from the typical dull shade to one of intense brilliance. This is a warning, as the Drogasti turns from hunting prey for food, to hunting for a... different purpose."

The troll woman caught in the coils let out a whimpered cry as the serpent constricted around her torso, calculated movements pushing her forearms so that they were pinned between two heavy coils. The thick body undulated, pressing the tapered tail between her struggling legs until the thickness of it forced her legs far apart. Held against the soft underside of the giant, the troll battled until she found herself suitably pinned, with only her lower body visible. The teacher approached, holding a small dagger in one hand.

For a moment, Maeve was certain that she would rescue the trapped woman, and found that Houndstooth instead strode to the side of the beast, reaching over to cut through the leather leggings the troll wore. In only a few deft cuts, the leggings had been reduced to little more than chaps, the woman's tuft of orange pubic hair stark against her blue skin. Stepping away, the teacher sheathed her dagger and began to speak again.

"Would anyone care to guess at the gender of this particular specimen?" At the shocked silence of the class, she continued on without a care. "The Drogasti alternate their gender depending on what is needed in their surroundings. They are equipped with both needed organs, with more than enough room in their bodies. They mate much like snakes do, though the sequence of events is particularly passive with nothing extreme worth mentioning. Think of the most boring night of sex you've had, and then imagine it with no emotions or urges. Just instinct to pass on your seed.

"Breeding is done in three parts. The first is basic insemination, where the sperm meets the egg. In the second part, the Drogasti embryos are allowed to grow within the carrier parent until a suitable incubator is found. This second segment is the longest, with roughly five months elapsing before moving on to the third stage." Her hand came to rest on a vertical slit along the serpent's underbelly, the raised edges around the depression sliding against the troll's labia with every struggle.

"The Drogasti seek out incubators of another race, typically preferring humanoids to anything else. It is assumed that the Drogasti neglect to attack humanoid species as food because of their use in this manner. They prefer women, with obvious reason. It is well known among the Topani tribes that, when the Drogasti begin to appear with colored hoods, it is time to spend an overwhelming amount of attention on them. Drogasti do not, it appears, take incubators that are aware of them. Instead, they catch the unsuspecting victim in their coils, and the third phase begins.

"Among the Topani, this particular event is a coming-of-age ritual. The Topani women are prepared, and released into the areas where the bred Drogasti are most prevalent. Most describe this event as particularly painful," her smirk became a wicked smile as she looked back to the troll woman, "but ultimately fulfilling. Now, class, if you would pay particular attention during this..."

The Drogasti adjusted itself despite it's prey's objections, pressing the slit up against the woman's labia before letting the body rest for a moment. Slowly, the slit began to part, a finger-thick protrusion wiggling almost worm-like from between the raised edges of the depression. The serpent shifted, moving the prone troll until the tapered tip of the glistening appendage was allowed to slide between the troll's folds in a tease. The woman whimpered and squirmed, attempting to hitch her legs up, but the serpent only leaned itself back, forcing the woman to slide further onto the protrusion.

"Contrary to the fearsome appearance, the Drogasti is not a rough and painful lover. The rumored reasons for this are varied, but most describe the interaction as gentle at the beginning. Part of the intelligence of these creatures is assumed due to the fact that they respond to the needs of their incubators," she pointed as the snake bucked, the troll whimpering as her fear made the dry entrance particularly uncomfortable. Slowly, the appendage withdrew, and the class backed up a few steps as the snake hefted lower coils to push the raised edges of the slit up against the troll's mound, grinding there.

Maeve watched the troll flush and soon begin to pant, her mouth dropping open as the serpent ceased the grinding to attempt an intrusion once more. This time, the discomfort was simply the strangeness of it all, the troll looking anywhere but the class as they watched the serpent feed it start of it's length into the now docile woman. The first few inches revealed the tapered nature of the thing as it quickly filled out and stretched the troll woman around an intruder that quickly matched the size of a man's wrist.

The troll panted and groaned, her hips rolling and shimmying in what was now an attempt to ease the entry, nearly urging the beast onwards. "The Drogasti secretes a numbing agent that dulls the pain," she paused as the beast lifted a coil, pressing the thick appendage up further into the woman, "but also induces the woman's body to believe it is pregnant, in high doses. The Topani gather this secretion during the incubation ritual, and save it for when it is needed to relieve pain among the tribe."

The serpent adjusted, artfully moving the coils surrounding the troll to lift her and let her fall, and Maeve flushed as the trolls resistance was deftly wiped away, her whimpers replaced by uncertain moans that quickly became rich and full, tangled with pleas for more. Glancing up at Brol'zju, she found him looking unsure and confused, his free hand idly rubbing the quickly growing bulge at his groin. His eyes caught hers, and she found herself coaxed to stand in front of him, his hand firm on her shoulder.

Her eyes riveted onto the scene before her, it was nonetheless impossible not to pay attention to the frustrated mutters of the troll as he unlaced his leggings behind her, a content groan escaping him as he took his shaft in hand. Strong fingers gripped her painfully as she tried to look behind her, his soft command for her to keep her eyes on the snake barely heard over the sound of his fellow troll. Brol'zju pressed close to her, his hips kept away from her back to leave a sizable gap between them.

The serpent paused, and the class gasped as they saw it's phallus plainly outlined, bulging from the troll's lower stomach. The bulge moved, and the troll uttered another husky moan, her head rolling back against the stomach of her captor as her hips thrust forward in a spasm. Her fingers flexed, dragging nails over scales that did not yield, and the moment of intense pleasure passed as her mouth opened in a scream of mangled pleasure and pain.

The shaft of the serpent pulsed, squeezing something up through the inside, the troll's thrashing becoming fevered as her pleasure became true pain. It tightened around her, turning her frenzied screams into soft whimpers of complaint as the snake seemed to pump itself into her, finally holding her still, hilted completely within. The distended flesh of the troll's stomach squirmed, and the bulge shrunk slowly as the serpent began to slowly withdraw it's length from within.

"The Drogasti does not expel seed in this third phase. The incubator," the teacher stepped forward, grasping the troll as the coils loosened from around her, allowing her to slide further down the stomach of the beast as it, with one last gush of slick fluid, vacated the glistening and slightly gaping slit where it had been sheathed, "is now impregnated with the living... hatchlings." Her hand lay on the swollen stomach of the troll, who had started the class lithe and toned, and now looked fit to bursting.

"In three weeks time, labor will be induced by a secretion made by the young, and they will leave the incubator. Who is, of course, unharmed." She affected a concerned tone, touching the shoulder of the troll who now stood beside her. "Did that hurt, dear?"

The troll nodded, the pleasured glow gone from her as her hands framed her round stomach and then touched at her breasts, pulling fingers away at the dampness where her nipples leaked against her leathers. Behind Maeve, Brol'zju grunted once more, his forehead pressed between her shoulder blades as the soft sobbing of the incubator was coupled with the faint sound of his release staining the grass at their feet. His grip remained tight, pinning Maeve to the spot, and she scooped her hands along her skirt, pulling it forward in fear of having the soft cloth stained.

"Good," the teacher's voice went cold immediately, and she shoved the woman back to her lover, who gathered her up in his arms while she sobbed against his furred chest. "Keep your lusts contained during my class. When I speak, your attention is on me. Be glad that this is not one of the species that eats it's incubators." Her hand moved carelessly. "You are dismissed. Saiya should be present for your next class. I'm sure she'll have something particularly fluffy and innocent for you."

The Drogasti had returned beside it's fellow by the time the students turned to leave, coiling briefly around Houndstooth before soft words were murmured, and the two slipped out of the corral in the same manner that they had arrived, vanishing into the tall grass. Maeve waited a few moments before turning around, catching Brol'zju finishing the lacing of his leggings. When he opened his mouth to speak, she held up a hand and sighed.

"I don't mind."

He laughed, easily scooping her up into his arms to help her over the corral railing, waiting for her to settle on the other side before he followed and dropped lightly beside her. "Joo be okay, girlie. Joo a goo' frahnd. Speakin' of," he pointed at the retreating back of Tyler, who had her arms wrapped around David's waist as they made their way back to the Academy, Brol'zju and Maeve forgotten. "Ya goin' with dem?"

Maeve sucked in air between her teeth, rubbing the back of her head. "No, I don't think so. Tyler's probably going back to eat again, or um... well, something with David. I'm not hungry or tired, so I think I'll just wander around for a bit and see what I might find. Maybe get some idea of what I'm going to do."

"Mmn." The troll nodded, the beads in his hair clicking briefly. "Ahlrigh', den. Joo need anyt'in', you come find ol' Brol'zju, ya?"

She smiled and nodded, tipping her head as he held up a finger. "There be ah fightin' class later, ya? Joo come. Learn somet'in' ta keep ya safe."

After a few moments of though, Maeve nodded slowly. "Sure. It's not like fighting can be sexual." She blinked as Brol'zju began to laugh, striding off with little more than a wave back to her.


	5. Chapter 5

She wandered. With no idea of where to begin when it came to the massive castle and it's grounds, she decided to simply walk where her feet chose to take her. Her adventures took her down a path that seemed hidden against the stone walls of the castle, leading her to a small grotto that was empty save for the water licking against tall shafts of squared off rock. With little knowledge of stone, she had no idea if the cave was man-made or had come naturally, but there was something about the place that made her feel ill and uneasy. She was uncertain if the low growls she was sure she heard were from wind coasting along the stone, or something that lingered within the darkened alcoves.

Not willing to anger what may or may not have been lurking in the dark, she made her way down another path that was bogged with water from the lake, the sticky muck squelching between her toes to yield for the harder stone beneath. Maeve paused halfway through the swampy bog to adjust her skirts, hiking them up and tying them so that they would not be stained by the mud as she wandered. By the time she found another path leading back up onto the main grounds, her hands and legs were coated with the black sludge, dark blonde hair sticking to her face and neck with the beads of sweat that had formed with the effort of her moving.

Yet, she was happy. There was a lack of inhibition to her wandering, an ingrained need to know everything that there was to know about the place that was quickly becoming like a home to her in more ways than her father's home had ever been. The thought of her father dampened her joy, and she realized that there was more worry for his health than there was the desire for his company. That vivid image of him writhing beneath Ashadel's boot flooded her mind, and she stumbled blindly over something that lay hidden in the tall grass that covered the wilder sections of the school grounds. Sharp pain wracked her as she fell, feet scratching along something so rough that skin tore, the wind knocked from her.

For a few long moments, she simply recovered. Pain dulled her senses until all she could hear was her own heartbeat in her ears and then, slowly, the soft whisking of something moving through the grass as if pulled. Her form moved, shoved gently by the unknown something, and she groaned as she twisted to see what it was, only to find herself near face-to-face with one of the Drogasti from earlier. It's hide was thick with mud slightly dried from the sun, staining the coal-black scales a green-tinged brown. The serpent eyed her for a moment, then nudged it's head beneath her arm not unlike a dog might in its quest for a round of attention.

Her fingers closed on the thick scales of the beast, and she pulled herself up as the serpent lifted, finding herself easily coaxed back to her feet. When she released, steadying herself after the few inches of drop, the beast lowered itself and met her eyes. Maeve felt the prickle of intelligence that the teacher had spoken of, and though there were no words involved at all, she felt that the snake was warning her to be more careful. Unbidden, Maeve nodded, and the Drogasti made as if to leave.

"Wait!" The serpent paused, looking back at her, and for a moment she felt completely foolish, and it was evident in the way she carefully spoke her next words. "I'm... do you know a place where I can rest? Maybe clean up a little bit?"

The serpent turned it's head back toward the path she had come up, as if considering the murky bog that it had clearly bathed itself in. Before Maeve could request that it be ignored, the enormous beast began to slither off towards a stand of trees that she could only just make out on what she believed to be the edge of the grounds. Her feet still stinging, the woman followed after, easily keeping pace with the slowly traveling serpent.

It guided her to the edge of the trees, shoving it's head through the particularly dense foliage to shovel out an entrance for her, then retreated back a few paces. Before Maeve could thank the beast, it turned and traveled back the way it had come, choosing the sunny field over the cool damp that the forest seemed to bring to the surrounding area. Grateful for the shelter after her climbing and the walk, Maeve crawled through the opening that had been granted her, and sighed in relief as the cold closed over her hot skin.

The trees were close together in the woods that she had been guided to, and Maeve quickly found that, between the closely knit gnarled trees and the complete inability to see the sky above the canopy save for a few flecks of light, she was getting more and more lost as the minutes passed by. After passing what she was sure was the same rock she had passed three times before, she paused and reclined against the rough bark of a tree, her lips pursed. Logic told her to simply retrace her path, but she couldn't remember exactly where she had broken into the forest, and so her choices were so much more limited.

It was during this reflection that she caught a faint sound at the edge of her hearing. The birds that flittered above her in the canopy were slowly tuned out as she focused all of her attention on that single little sound. Still not certain of her own tracking abilities, she nonetheless took a chance and stepped off in the direction of what she was sure was running water, not noticing that it was slowly getting darker and that the trees were closing in until she had to wriggle through an opening just barely larger than herself.

The sound of water changed to the sound of splashing, and though it had become akin to twilight in the forest, there was a faint light dancing just ahead of her, lighting the edges of trees in ghostly shades of yellow and red touched by blues and greens. Wriggling through another copse of trees, Maeve tumbled into a glade no more than fifteen feet across, set against a tall cliff from which hung vines and trailing twists of flowering branches. Beneath the large palm-like leaves, a small pond glistened with a shimmering veil of colors that danced on the rock that flanked it.

Colored droplets of water dropped into the water with plips and plops, each droplet sending hundreds of diamond-like droplets back up into the air only to fall and hit the surface again. Maeve groaned, realizing then just how thirsty and tired she was, and without giving much though beyond her own needs, approached the pool and sank down beside it, plunging her hands into the liquid with a satisfied moan. The cool fluid rippled thickly around her wrists, bits of dirt floating away from her fingers as if they were suspended in a thick solution, and Maeve lifted her hands up to bring the water to her lips.

Eyes peered up at her from within the liquid, and she uttered a startled gasp that completely shocked the thirst and weariness from her, dropping the handful of water back into the pond with a gloop. A sound surrounded her, and she pouted as she realized that there was laughter in the air instead of the sound of water. Her thudding heartbeat returning to normal, she leaned forward and dipped her fingertips into the pond.

They met resistance that she hadn't noticed before, pressing up against her even when she crawled closer and pushed as hard as she could. Until it simply didn't, and to a chorus of gurgling laughter she was dumped unceremoniously into the depths of the suddenly thin liquid. She stood, gasping for air, peering around for the source of the sound.

_Plip. Plop. Plip._

Her head was bombarded, the laughter suddenly at her ears as something slick and sticky wound itself down over her shoulder and into her top. Disgusted, Maeve danced around in an attempt to dislodge it, slapping at her neck and chest in frenzied pats. The laughter continued, until at last she managed to slap one of the wriggling droplets. Silence was joined with a gentle gurgling sob, and she pulled her hand away to peer at her palm.

A girl whimpered wetly from her fingers, translucent blue skin and dress lined with phosphorescent greens and aquamarines that detailed out tiny bows and edges of lace, and the glittery ribbons that had once gone up the length of slender legs. Legs that had been reduced to little more than a gooey smudge against her palm. Immediately, Maeve felt a wave of remorse, and suddenly quite aware that she was standing in a pool of the little creatures. Her eyes caught the silent forms of bobbing little people, their eyes as sad as those of the one she held.

Around her, the previously laughing creatures dripped from the plant-life, tiny glittering bodies becoming droplets in their fall only to mold and mesh with the bodies of those they fell on. She felt her heart break at the next sob, and she reached out a finger to touch at the slick surface of the hair that dripped into little curls that framed a sweetheart face. "I'm sorry," she murmured, and realized that she truly meant it, "I didn't realize that you were little people. I thought you were slugs, or so – oh, that was no good!" Her apologies fell on deaf ears as the goo-girl began to cry harder, dripping little droplets of blue-green goo down her bodice.

"Please, please don't cry. I can help you, can't I? Yes, see? I'll help... no tears needed. There's a pretty girl." Maeve moved, ever aware of the surrounding goo-beings, all of which seemed very keen on staying out of her way. She sat on the bank of the pond, her knees and feet still within the water, and pondered her choices, quickly coming to the realization that she had absolutely no idea how to help the creature, nor any idea of how to get back to someone who might know that themselves. Pursing her lips, Maeve posed her thoughts to the creatures. "How... do I help you?"

_Plip._The creature responded, pointing upwards at Maeve's dirtied locks with one hand still held up to her eyes, as if taking just the slightest break from her tears to offer assistance. The area rang with response, and Maeve had to supress laughter as the gooey bodies of the creatures rubbed up against her legs and over her toes.

"My hair? I don't know how that's going to help." The sprite pointed to her mouth, and then slowly rubbed her belly. "You want to eat my hair?"

_Plop._The creature nodded, managing a pout that was capable of outdoing any of Maeve's own. Her hands lifted, making grabbing motions, released a cacophony of plips and plops in the rhythmic lull of sounds that Maeve could only place as, "Gimme. Gimme. Gimme."

"Alright, I suppose I can just – oh!" Maeve blinked as the creature's arms lengthened, wrapping around a lock of hair with a shlurp to bring it to her. Her surprise doubled when the tiny, doll-like mouth opened to a frightening width, and she swallowed the dirty strands. Tiny hands worked the dark gold, and she slowly pulled the strands out of her mouth, leaving them starkly clean and shiny in comparison to the rest of Maeve's hair. The dirt and muck could easily be seen within the translucent body, and Maeve received a scolding for staring. Before she could apologize, the shimmering phosphorescence seemed to take over the tiny body, forcing the little being to gleam and glitter. When she returned to her previous state, no dirt could be seen within, and her legs were once more encased in the glittering ribbon-like bands, dainty feet shielded in slippers.

"You eat dirt?"

The girl pointed down, and Maeve watched as the swarming sprites cleaned her skin in quick tickling movements. Her toes curled, and she bit back an uncertain moan as she realized that her toes were inside the mouths of several of the little creatures, more apparent now that she was focused on it. The delightful sucking made her shudder, biting her bottom lip as her eyes closed. As soon as it began, it ended, and she watched them swim away with a groan.

_Plip!_

Maeve focused, with some effort, on the little girl dancing in the middle of her palm. Head clearing, she smiled. "Well, I'm glad to have helped you. Perhaps you can do the same for me?" She chuckled as the girl tipped her head not unlike a dog. "I'm a little lost. Do you know where there are people like me? Or at least a place with real water, and food? Food I can eat," she amended as the figure pointed to her hair. It stood for a few moments, clearly thinking, and then nodded, hair flopping and dislodging droplets that fell into Maeve's palm and merged back with the main body.

Taking the larger woman's thumb in hands, she pointed towards a thinning of trees. Before Maeve could dislodge her back into the water, she vanished up the sleeves of her dress, perching on Maeve's shoulder, ignoring the few strands of hair that floated through her body, a hand on Maeve's earlobe. "Well, alright. I suppose you can come along."

_Ploop._

Maeve laughed, and followed the insistent tug of the creature as it guided her into the woods. They walked for a long time, minutes passing into hours, with her responding to the gentle tugs and chastising sounds of the sprite as if it were all her fault that she walked into a dead end of vines and cliffs, or a wall of trees that provided no way through. It was during one of these, with her arguing quietly, that her hand parted a curtain of vines and she froze.

She was a beam of moonlight that writhed atop etched bodies of obsidian in the dusky shadows of the glade. Maeve caught herself from making a noise, even breathing, as a large furred form slunk through the shadows to nudge at the pale legs of the woman who already reclined along the chest of a massive man. Without even a heartbeat passing, the woman's thighs opened and her husky moan as the great cat dragged it's tongue up over her bare folds was muffled with the engorged shaft of another figure barely visible in the dark of the glade.

There were seven of them tangled there; five men who seemed to have been cut from the same stone with eyes that burned the deep color of amber, bodies moving with a grace that reflected the easy motions of a feral cat as they ran hands over the moonlight skin of the sole woman between them. Her hair spilled like silver over their thighs, moving like fluid mercury as she was lifted into the arms of the one who had only moments ago been a cat. They fell together, her hands gripping the forest floor that flanked his head as his length sank into her, pulling a brumal moan from deep in her chest that seemed to be a welcoming cry for the others.

They encompassed her, the thick arms of one surrounding her slender shoulders and pulling her back against him as her hand guided his shaft to her ass, and their pleasure was a mutual sound as the three sank into a steady rhythm that spoke of restrained lust and violence, with every rise and fall tearing another dulcet moan from the woman who Maeve would soon come to call teacher. Saiya's silver eyes were hazed, her expression one of unmatched bliss and utter love as they met those of one of the men who stood above her, and she welcomed his shaft into her mouth as if it were the only thing that mattered in her world.

They traded her, never shoving her as if unwanted. Indeed, it seemed to Maeve as though the released her with deep regret, always eager to gather her back into their arms and fall once more to the forest floor in a tangle of bodies that seemed to have no end. So wrapped in the passion before her, the hand that clapped over her mouth and dragged her back startled the breath out from her, and though she struggled against the strong grasp, she stood no chance as the unknown assailant pulled her several feet away and then released her mouth.

"Sorry!" A voice hissed, helping her stand before speaking again, "I had to get you away before they saw you, I'm really very sorry. Just don't scream. You'll be ripped apart before they even think to regard you as a friend. Though... being a friend might be even worse." The words were rushed and breathless, but held a quality to them that Maeve could only describe as dreamy. "Hey! You found a Schlupp!"

Maeve turned to spot her little blue companion standing in the palm of an absolutely terrifying creature. Nearly seven feet tall and pure muscle thick beneath a tawny hide, the wolf-human that grinned at the entertaining figure of goo – currently busy scolding the wolf-woman with a series of plips and squirps – could hardly be called delicate. Maeve bit back the rising desire to scream, though her fear was easily evident and just as easily picked up by the wolf.

"Oh! Cenarius help me, of course." Feral eyes closed, and the form that was wolf seemed to melt and shift, leaving an unassuming human where once there had been a lean weapon of fear. "I sometimes forget about that bit. I'm really sorry," she held out the hand that held the sprite, then quickly retracted it and held out the other one, "I'm Petra. Which I suppose doesn't really matter much, here." Both girls jumped as a loud roar sounded through the trees, answered by several more. "Aaand, I think we can talk more once we're out of their territory. This way!"

Maeve resisted for a moment, squeaking into motion as another roar was set loose in the forest, catching the tail end of conversation as the woman led her through the forest without even looking around. "I can't believe you found one of these. They're so rare now that the Headmistress has placed a security ban on harvesting anything near them. I haven't seen one in two years outside of the Academy." She whirled on the quarter-elf, green eyes flashing. "Did you find a colony? Please tell me you found a colony. That would make her so beyond happy, you have no idea."

"I..." She had no idea how to respond, with the previously frightening woman now acting like a happy child. "There were more of them. Lots of them. They cleaned my feet and - ..."

"Of course they did!" Petra laughed, as if what she said should have been common knowledge. "Shlupps are cleaners. We use them around the Academy to help clean up the leftovers from food or spill accidents. They heal, too. Xaedryx loves having them around to help her when she's working on new elixirs. They can't be poisoned, can't get sick – well, mostly – and they have extremely long lifespans. But," she poured the Schlupp into Maeve's waiting hands, "they've gotten really rare over the last couple of hundred years, according to the Topani. We've only found three colonies since getting here, and we're really careful not to disturb them too much.

"They're pretty playful and happy, though. I should probably take a look at that colony to make sure it'll be safe where it is," she paused as a fainter roar went out, "uh... once they're done." Petra finally took a breath, and looked Maeve over. "You're a student. I remember you from Ney's class, earlier. Aren't the Drogasti interesting? I've always wondered what it would be like to be an incubator for them, but I'm pretty hard to surprise or sneak up on, so I haven't gotten the chance. I wonder if that troll would let me talk to her about what she's going through – oh, there you are, Nyx."

The foliage at her feet rustled, and out stepped a very large and very fluffy black house cat with eyes of vivid green. The dark purple wizard's hat perched upon it's head only just fit, and once again Maeve was struck with the uncomfortable reality that the animals of the new world she lived on were far more intelligent than any would give them credit for. It looked Maeve over with a careless glance, then looked firmly to the other woman and mrow'd.

"Oh, stop. I had a feeling that someone was where they shouldn't be, and I was right. I found her right next to the mating glade that Saiya and her brothers use and -... oh, don't you say that. I wouldn't let anyone get – Nyx!" Petra wrinkled her nose as the cat slunk back into the plantlife, leaving her to cuss after the striped tail had vanished. "Pain in my ass, you! Ugh!"

"Mating... glade?" She could hardly imagine that this place had specific areas sanctioned just for such things, and she coaxed the Schlupp to her shoulder before following after the woman.

"Yeah. One of the places where Saiya's brothers take her when it's time to breed. They've been at it since last night. It's a good idea to avoid them during this time, because they'll either kill you for intruding, or you'll end up like Saiya does. Granted, she does it out of love, but I watched once. Just one of them would wear even the most experienced mate out, and yet she takes all six of them for hours, twice a month. I don't know how she does it." Petra shuddered, stepping around a tree into another glade.

A cottage stood in the middle of perfectly trimmed grass, a small pond dividing the babbling brook that flowed through the glade to disappear into the trees. The house was surrounded by planters of various sizes, most holding easily identified plants such as carrots or onions, all in bloom. Hanging planters held delicate plants that looked as if they might break with even the slightest breeze, while larger ones along the sides of the house held climbing vines and bushes of flowers she couldn't recognize.

There was one bare spot amid it all at the very corner of the garden, an enormous circle of dirt tilled save for the edges and the very middle. A tall sapling reached for the sky some fifteen feet tall, thin branches already heavy with leaves. Around the edges of the dirt, a carpet of deep red roses sprawled over the ground. "Like it?" Petra beamed, gesturing with a hand. "Home sweet home, so they say. I can get you some food once I tend to the planters. You any good with plants?"

Maeve thought of the little pot that had hung outside her window in the Low Canals until a sharp burst of air had thrown it and the plants inside to the ground, shattering it. She shrugged, the Schlupp mimicking the motion. Petra grinned, taking her hand and dragging her to the closest planter and handing her a small trowel. "These are potatoes. Just take your hand," the woman took Maeve's hands in her own, and pressed them to the dirt, digging them in, "and gently dig. You want to scoop and shift, don't just throw. Yeah, just like that. Wiggle your fingers down and you should feel a potato. When you do," Petra demonstrated by twisting her wrist and pulling, revealing a potato the size of her fist, "just twist and pull. Yeah! See? Congratulations, you've picked your first potato."

They continued shifting and plucking for a few minutes, until Maeve couldn't bear the silence. "You're a gardener, then?"

"Huh? Well, yeah." Petra set aside her potatoes and stood, fetching a bucket that she helped Maeve set the potatoes into. "I have a green thumb, and I'm really good with plants and animals. So I'm the gardener and gameskeeper, in a way. Well, assistant gameskeeper. Ney's the one who deals with the animals, really."

"That's the teacher from earlier?" Maeve paused to watch the Schlupp hang from her hair, twisted harmlessly in the strands and clearly enjoying the swaying as she leaned forward and back through the picking.

"Yeah. She's not really as mean as she seems. She has a short temper, but she's usually not so testy. There's," Petra paused, pursing her lips. "Something has the animals on edge, and when the animals get agitated, so does she. She's always gotten along much better with them than with people... I was a little surprised she agreed to teach the class until I realized she had every intention of setting that Drogasti on someone. I think she lives through the thrill. Sort of lonely, really."

"I thought Ash was the groundskeeper?"

"She is. That's sort of the polite way of pointing out to the teachers that she's the overseer. We all work together, and while we don't all get along sometimes, we know who the bosses are. For me, it's the Headmistress, then Ash, then Ney. Otherwise? I've only got myself to listen to – this isn't a potato..." She held up a gleaming rock, peering from it to the ground and back again.

"Anyway, that's sort of how it goes. From what my father told me, when everyone made it here, the Headmistress was a wreck. They were afraid that her mind wasn't going to make it through. I think the hardest blow was when they had to kill Saiya's mother... Saiya and her brothers didn't blame the ones who did it, but it haunted them. Some of them said that they could hear her insane ramblings even after her heart stopped.

It all sort of bore down on the Headmistress hard. She was fairly young, then... and there were all these people looking to her for support. It really almost cracked her. So Ash and Eaxoa started to help out. They took the jobs that they could so that the Headmistress could focus, and in return, they were given special powers over the rest of us. You'd never guess it from any of them. Ash tends to just do what she's supposed to, and Eaxoa loves what she does too much to try to step on toes. Which is good, because I think those hooves would hurt."

She motioned to another planter, and after explaining how to pull the carrots and onions up, went back to talking. "So, Ash leads the groups that go back through the Gate to try and find people like you," she grinned at Maeve's surprised expression, "you don't smell quite like here yet. You aren't connected, but you will be. Everyone eventually connects. Anyway, she goes back to find people like you, people who were left behind – though that's a bit of a long shot, since only a couple have been found – and tries to find out why the Legion left."

Maeve paused in her digging, considering the words. "What do you mean... connected?"

Petra, for perhaps the first time, looked as if the words didn't come quite so easily to her. "It's not really my area of knowledge. Do you remember the Dream?" She frowned as Maeve shook her head, settling back on her heels while she thought. "The Dream is a... a spiritual place. Like a blueprint for the world, that only a rare few can access and see. Everyone visits it when they sleep, but there are the rarest of the rare that can walk it when they're awake. It's a beautiful place, completely untouched by humanity and completely unable to be destroyed. Greater creatures than we created it, and all the incarnations of it.

Everyone was connected through the Dream. If you had the power, you could visit anyone, guide anyone. The power here is a little bit like that. Everyone is connected, because that's just how the world is. Those who are highly attuned can feel this as if it's a heartbeat within them. They can feel when entire places crumble, when triumph visits the people, everything good and bad. But mostly, the connection is just a veil of magic that filters through everyone. I... like to think that it connects every place."

Petra's fingers drew a large circle in the dirt, and several smaller ones inside of it. "I think that the Dream wasn't just isolated to Azeroth. I think it encompasses everything, more than just as a blueprint, but as a whole and we are simply a small part. Everything within the range of the Dream is connected; every star, every planet, every flower and person. And I think that this lush, beautiful, pristine spiritual world is leaking out through fonts on every planet, giving magic to all the worlds. I think it feeds us, and we feed it."

She smiled faintly, sadness tinging her voice. "But I can't talk about magic like most can. I don't understand it, or much of anything beyond the trees and the flowers. That's my domain. But I like to believe that I'm right. Because if it's true..."

Maeve waited for her to continue, leaning forward to poke at Petra's shoulder, but the woman's green eyes were fixed past Maeve's shoulder. "If it's true? Petra, you can't leave me hanging."

"If it's true," the velvet voice spoke, quiet and powerful, "then we are heading for a darkness beyond even that which was present on Azeroth."


End file.
